


Carry the One

by blackstar777



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Cabin Sex, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2017-12-05 12:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackstar777/pseuds/blackstar777
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey ends up taking Mike to the cabin instead of Zoe. What was that Jessica said about making rash decisions?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [mskatej](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mskatej/pseuds/mskatej), talented and amazing beta, writer, and friend for her help with this. :-)
> 
> Spoilers for 2.11 "Blindsided"

Harvey looks out the window at Zoe, watches her disappear inside the house, and feels all the anger and frustration of the week wash over him in an overwhelming wave. He closes his eyes, embraces it for a moment. He got through a stressful week of Mike acting like an emotional teenager and only lost his cool once. He’s entitled.

He breathes through the burn of it in his lungs, flexes against the way it tightens his chest wall. He can feel the ache of what Zoe just told him, but it’s distant, dull beneath the fire blazing in his gut. Mike accuses Harvey of not having emotions. That’s not true. He just knows which ones to focus on. Zoe may not be coming, but he needs to get out of the city for the weekend. 

When he opens his eyes the driver is looking at him reluctantly in the rearview mirror.

“To the Berkshires, Mr. Specter?”

Harvey grinds his teeth. “Detour to Brooklyn first.”

```

If he’s completely honest with himself, Harvey’s not exactly sure what he was planning to do when he got to Mike’s apartment. But when Mike opens the door and looks shocked, defensive, and then sheepish in the space of one breath, Harvey decides he’s taking Mike with him to the cabin. Almost immediately, he’s vaguely upset with himself for the decision. He’s managed to stumble upon this well of endless compassion for Mike that’s apparently been forming without his permission and the timing couldn’t be more inconvenient.

Mike’s expression settles on exhausted with a base coat of irritation. “Look, I get it, okay? I was out of line. I’m getting my shit together.”

Harvey ignores the apology and pushes past him into the apartment. 

Mike swears under his breath but offers no other resistance. 

Harvey wouldn’t necessarily use the word “disaster” to describe the state of the place. It’s technically neat, if not clean, but the air is heavy with the pungent-sweet smell of the weed Mike’s been smoking even though he promised Harvey after they smoked the night before they ousted Hardman that he was done. It’s not even so much the way it looks or smells. It’s the layer of quiet desperation that’s settled over the place, it’s the feeling of it.

Mike just stands quietly while he scrutinizes and when Harvey finally lays eyes on him he asks, “What are you doing here?” Like he couldn’t really care less what the answer is. Like maybe he’s not expecting one. 

Far be it for Harvey to disappoint. “Pack a bag.”

“What? We’re going somewhere? I thought you were mad at me.”

“I am.”

“Pretty sure that was the beginning of the _Without a Trace_ episode I saw last week.”

Harvey glares at Mike as he clears a space for himself on the couch. “Trust me, if I was going to kill you, I wouldn’t do it in the Berkshires.”

Mike’s quiet for a moment. “Where would you do it?”

Harvey leans back on the couch cushions and stares up at the ceiling. “Jersey.”

Mike huffs. “Fair enough.” He comes around to stand on the opposite side of the coffee table so he’s looking down at Harvey. “So is this a work thing or …”

He asks like he already knows the answer and Harvey knows it’s not a work thing but he’s not exactly sure what it is. An if-I-don’t-get-out-of-the-city-I-might-actually-kill someone-and-you-look-like-hell-so-I’m-taking-you-with-me thing? Harvey rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms and avoids the question with, “You won’t need a suit.”

Mike hums in understanding and Harvey can feel him standing there, studying him. The wall clock tick tocks through about seven more seconds before he says, “Are you ok?”

The sincerity of his tone catches Harvey off-guard and he swallows against the sticky ball of emotions that rises in his chest. He takes his hands away from his eyes and lowers his head to look at Mike. His face is slightly out of focus but Harvey can see all the signs that Mike is about to start bleeding concern any minute. “I’m fine,” Harvey reassures him. “And we’re leaving in ten minutes, whether you’ve packed or not, so I suggest you get started.”

Mike rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he goes to the closet and pulls out a small duffle bag. “Ok so let me get this straight.” He crosses the room and throws the bag on the bed. “The last time I saw you, you were yelling at me for being a total fuck up and ruining my career and yours. Then you show up at my apartment at 10:00 on a Friday night looking like someone kicked your puppy, demanding that I go with you to some undisclosed location in the woods with a vague promise that you won’t kill me and I’m supposed to just … pack a bag?”

Mike’s point is completely undermined by the fact that he’s already pulling socks and underwear out of the dresser and tossing them onto the bed, but he turns to look at Harvey expectantly.

Harvey shrugs, already feeling the weight lifting off of his chest. “I told you, we’re going to the Berkshires.”

Mike laughs and starts putting clothes into the duffle bag. 

```  
When the driver opens the trunk so Mike can put his bag inside Harvey reaches in and grabs the bottles of champagne that were chilling in a bucket of ice. Mike raises his eyebrows but doesn’t ask for an explanation and Harvey doesn’t offer one. 

When they get inside, Harvey pops both bottles and hands Mike one. The driver draws up the privacy window and they ride in silence for a while, sipping at the champagne. Then Mike turns to him and says, “I have to be honest, this is not how I imagined being whisked away for a romantic weekend in the Berkshires, but I’ll take what I can get.” 

Harvey laughs around the dull ache in his chest and takes another swig from his bottle. “Believe me, you were not my first choice.”

Mike gives him a look of exaggerated dismay and pouts, which makes Harvey laugh again and he probably should have eaten something because this champagne is going straight to his head. He’s feeling better by the minute, though, and in the giddy champagne-induced haze he’s able to admit that it probably has less to do with the alcohol and more to do with Mike. They’ve known each other, what? Nine months tops? That’s almost no time at all, and yet Mike’s managed to bulldoze all of Harvey’s defenses and endear himself to Harvey in a way that should be unsettling. Harvey has walls for a reason, damnit. Tonight he was reminded, the hard way, exactly what happens when he lets them down. 

But Harvey stopped fighting the seductive force of Mike’s wit and charm months ago, so he’s unsurprised to find that, at one of his lowest moments, Mike’s company is exactly the balm he needs. He has no intention of sharing this with Mike and they spend the majority of the ride shooting the shit and getting drunk. Harvey’s so distracted by how much better he feels that it’s not until two hours into the trip that he remembers he’s supposed to be pissed off at Mike. 

He opens his mouth to assure Mike that he hasn’t forgotten but Mike heads him off at the pass. “So who was your first choice?” His features are obscured by the darkness of the New England mountain roads at night but Harvey can see that Mike’s face is turned towards him. If he closes his eyes, he can even picture the intent look Mike must have. His tone is casual, but Harvey can tell it’s something he’s been turning over in his mind, probably since he saw the champagne, waiting for the right moment to insert it into the conversation. He considers evading the question, but finds that he’s just drunk enough that wallowing in his sorrows holds a kind of masochistic appeal. He has to give Mike points for strategy.

Harvey lets the moment stretch on while he decides how forthcoming to be. Mike sits quietly at the other end of the car. Apparently he _has_ been listening to Harvey’s instruction on the power of silence."Zoe Lawford."

"The jury consultant? She turned you down?"

Mike's incredulous tone warms Harvey to the core.

"No." And then, against his better judgment, "Her brother's dying of cancer. She's leaving New York to raise his 6 year old daughter."

“Jesus,” Mike says, letting out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry, Harvey. That sucks.”

Harvey gives a bitter laugh. “Yeah, it does.”

It’s a shitty situation. And not because Harvey subscribes to the ridiculous notion that Zoe was the one or anything. It’s been a long time since he lost the naiveté that allowed him to suspend disbelief over the fantasy of happy endings and white picket fences. Still, Zoe’s not like other women. For one thing, she doesn’t hesitate to call him on his shit, something that upon further reflection Harvey notes as a shared quality amongst all his favorite people. She’s also got a sort of honest confidence about her and a habit of refusing to compromise, even with Harvey, that he finds endlessly intriguing. Her coming back into his life for a second time, it had felt like the beginning of something, and to have it all ripped away so suddenly – Harvey feels blindsided, unprepared. 

“She means a lot to you,” Mike says, not like a question but like learning that fact adds a new piece to a puzzle he’s been trying to solve. When Harvey doesn’t respond, Mike reaches over and punches his arm lightly. “Mazel tov, Harvey. You’re a real boy.”

Even though Mike can’t see him in the dark, Harvey rolls his eyes. “That’s not the story.” But he cracks a smile in spite of himself.

“Although,” Mike continues, undeterred, “Getting over being shafted by fate, by getting shit-faced on champagne on the way up to the Berkshires: very _Sex in the City_.”

“Did you just compare me to Carrie Bradshaw?”

“Actually no, I think Samantha would be a more appropriate reference.”

“So you’re saying I’m old.”

“I’m saying you know the characters from _Sex and the City_ by name.”

Harvey doesn’t really have anything to say to that so he reaches over and confiscates Mike’s bottle of champagne. “Since this is too girly for you …”

“Hey!” Mike reaches for the bottle, but his reflexes are slow and Harvey has the element of surprise on his side. When he misses on the first pass though, Mike unbuckles his seatbelt with a huff of indignant frustration and crosses the distance between them with surprising speed.

They tussle for a bit, but Harvey’s too drunk to put up much of a fight and soon Mike retrieves the bottle with a triumphant sound. They’re both a little out of breath from their brief struggle and now Mike is pressed flush against Harvey. Instead of scooting back to his seat, Mike takes a swig of champagne and turns toward him.

"You should know, I'm honored to be your second choice."

There's a tease in his voice but also a sincerity that makes warmth spread through Harvey's entire body. Harvey presses himself into Mike's side.

"Don't sell yourself short."

"Oh I'm not," Mike replies pressing back, molding himself to Harvey and getting comfortable. "I don't know if you've heard, Harvey, but you're quite the catch. This will definitely get me in with the cool kids once it hits the associate rumor mill." 

"Nice boys don't kiss and tell."

"I have a feeling nice boys aren't your type."

Flirting with Mike is nothing new for Harvey. Even if they don't call it that. He does it because it's fun, because he's good at it and because Mike has the unique ability to flirt with Harvey in a way that simultaneously showcases his own quick wit and strokes Harvey's ego. It's less than professional but there's no real intent there and the truth is that they're closer than is appropriate for a senior partner and his associate anyway. But the context of the moment makes the existing boundaries feel loose, permeable, and Harvey finds he's enjoying himself far too much to stop.

"Oh yeah? And what type of boy are you?" Harvey raises his arm over Mike's head and stretches it along the seat back. Without hesitating Mike scoots into the space that creates against Harvey's side. Pressing the warmth of his body into the crook of Harvey's shoulder and against his abdomen. 

"I'm any type you need me to be." Mike’s voice is low in the intimate space of the back seat and there’s no mistaking the suggestive nature of his tone. His nearness; the feel of him so close, pressed to Harvey from shoulder to toe, sends a jolt of heat through Harvey's chest.

The evening takes a sudden and unexpected turn. Mike is offering something. For the night? For the weekend? Either way it feels like a one-time offer and Harvey is overwhelmed by how much he wants it.

“What do you need Harvey?" Mike raises his head so that their faces are level, just inches apart. "Am I the wingman or the rebound?”

What’s about to happen here is unprofessional, unethical, and seven types of irresponsible, but the heat of Mike’s body pressed against his own feels too good to ignore. Harvey swallows hard. “Which would you rather be?”

Mike chuckles, low and throaty, and leans so close Harvey can feel the puffs of breath on his lips as Mike asks, “Is that a trick question?” He leans forward the rest of the way and sucks on Harvey’s bottom lip.

Harvey freezes for a moment, reflexively evaluating the consequences of this decision, but the confidence with which Mike works his tongue into Harvey’s mouth is extraordinarily convincing, so he lets his mind go blank and moans into the kiss. Mike takes that for the permission it is and probes deeper, reaching around to cup the back of Harvey’s head in his palm, his hand in Harvey’s hair.

It’s a drunken kiss – wet and sloppy – but, even drunk, Mike is an excellent kisser. Of course he’s thought about it before – kissing Mike. Mike has the type of mouth – both literally and figuratively – that Harvey finds tempting, but beyond the fact that Jessica would have a conniption, Mike’s position as Harvey’s associate blurs the lines of consent so thoroughly that he never seriously considered acting on that impulse. 

Now, though, drunk in the back of a town car with Mike sucking on his tongue like he’s making a promise, Jessica Pearson is over a hundred miles away and consent is almost beside the point. Harvey’s used to being in control, in most situations he demands it, but right now, after the week he’s had, it feels so good to cede that control to Mike, to let him plunder and take as he pleases.

It’s counterintuitive, because Mike himself is at least half of the reason Harvey’s week was such a fucking shit show. There’s no doubt in his mind that Mike’s ship has yet to right itself after his grandmother’s death and it would seem that he’s not done making bad decisions; decisions that have forced Harvey to bend the rules of professional and personal conduct to which he takes such pride in adhering. Trusting Mike’s judgment so implicitly here seems like a doomed decision at best. But there’s a trace of apology in the way Mike is kissing him that feels wrong in all the right ways and Harvey finds himself completely unconcerned with the shit storm they’re likely setting in motion. 

He feels oddly … safe, protected; and the only Mike he can focus on is the one who’s become his friend and confidante over the past year. Harvey can count on one hand the number of people in his adult life who know about his mother’s infidelity. There’s a certain freedom in letting someone close enough to know your deepest secret that creates an intractable bond. In this moment, Harvey feels recklessly vulnerable and, despite everything, he’s so glad Mike’s here that he feels like he could give him anything. And Mike, because he’s such a pro at reading Harvey’s every need and desire, takes what Harvey’s offering and runs with it.

He uses his grip in Harvey’s hair to maneuver Harvey’s head into position and licks into his mouth like he owns it and Harvey is just renting. It’s just what Harvey needs, and the feel of Mike’s tongue, thrusting against his own, hot and slick and so confident, makes Harvey moan and thrust his hips against the air. 

Mike groans and breaks the kiss putting his mouth to Harvey’s ear, licking the shell, his breath coming hot and heavy. “I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he whispers, and Harvey shudders at all the sensations that roll down his spine. Mike pulls Harvey’s head back, nudging his collar aside to leave a wet trail with his tongue from Harvey’s ear to his collar bone. He run’s his lips, feather-soft, against the column of Harvey’s exposed throat, murmuring into the sensitive skin in the hollow, “Will you let me make you feel good, Harvey?”

Naturally, that’s the moment they arrive at the cabin and the car rolls to a stop. It takes Harvey several moments to register what’s happening. When he looks out the car window and sees the massive porch with a single overhead lamp lighting the doorway he says, “We’re here.” His voice sounds like it’s been dragged over gravel. 

“Finally,” Mike says, and Harvey gets the sense that he’s talking about more than their arrival at the cabin, but before his sluggish thought process can catch up, Mike’s scooting away from him, opening his door, and sliding out of the car. 

Harvey opens his own door and carefully steps outside into the coolness of a fall Massachusetts night. The crispness of the mountain air and the sharp smell of pine clear his head enough that he can grab their things out of the trunk and thank the driver with a reasonable semblance of coherence.

Mike makes a stumbling beeline for the side of the house from where he exclaims loudly, “Shit, Harvey, this place is on the water?”

Harvey chuckles and concentrates on walking up the porch steps while simultaneously searching in the side pocket of his overnight bag for the key to the front door. The crickets are a little subdued tonight but their rhythmic chirping rings clear in the thin air. The rocks in the driveway pop under the tires as the driver turns the car around and pulls out onto the road.

Mike joins Harvey on the porch just as he locates the key ring. He pulls it out of the bag and squints at the keys, trying to decipher which one is for the deadbolt in the porch light.

“Oh man, you are so drunk,” Mike comments with a small laugh after several moments pass. “And, hey, for the record do you know how many murder mysteries start out at a cabin by the lake? This would actually be the perfect place to kill me.” Mike draws in a sharp breath and Harvey looks up to see Mike looking at him through narrowed eyes. “If that’s your plan, kudos for the misdirection.” His smile renders the weight of his suspicion moot. “But seriously, could we hurry this operation up? I have to piss like a race horse.”

Harvey points behind him. “There are plenty of trees.” He rolls his eyes at Mike’s indignant glare. “Then make yourself useful, Princess,” he says, tossing both bags at Mike, which he catches with an “oomph” and a few unsteady steps backward. Harvey locates the key and unlocks the door at which point Mike pushes past him into the house, dropping the bags in the foyer with a “Sorry. Sorry. Excuse me. Sorry. I _really_ have to pee.”

Harvey swears as he narrowly avoids tripping over the bags and closes the door behind him. He listens to Mike’s loud exclamations echoing through the hallways as he goes in search of a bathroom and when they cease Harvey assumes he’s located the one on the first floor. Harvey leaves the bags where they are, because retrieving them seems like too much of an effort, making his way upstairs into the master bedroom and through to the master bath. 

He turns the light on, shuts the door and leans up against it, staring at himself in the mirror for several long minutes. His head feels impossibly heavy and his eyes are at half mast. His cheeks are flushed with all the champagne and he feels drunker than he’s been in a while. He hears movement downstairs and is reminded of the situation he’s gotten himself into. He’s reminded that he brought Mike to the cabin in Zoe’s place. That Mike had kissed Harvey like an apology, like he was prepared to get on his knees and show him exactly how sorry he is. That it was both completely inappropriate and everything Harvey needs. And now … what?

Do they pick up where they left off? Spend the rest of the weekend trying to forget it ever happened? Harvey’s voice of reason is telling him to show Mike to the guest bedroom and have a nice long talk tomorrow morning about why it was a bad idea. Unfortunately, it’s hard to hear that voice over the rush of desire that floods his body at the thought of Mike spread out under him on the king size bed.

“What’s the plan, Specter?” Harvey asks his reflection. 

“Harvey?” Mike’s voice comes from the second floor landing.

“In here,” Harvey calls. He hears Mike enter the bedroom. “There are 3 bedrooms on the second floor, you can choose any one of them,” he adds, giving himself a stern look in the mirror. Jessica would be proud.

No response, just rustling outside the bathroom.

Harvey finishes his business and opens the bathroom door to find Mike stripped down to his boxers and passed out on his stomach, spread eagle and diagonal across the bed. 

“I guess you were ditching the day they taught seduction at charm school,” Harvey says, but Mike doesn’t respond, he’s out cold. Harvey stands there for a moment processing this development. He experiences a sort of disappointed relief. In the end it’s for the best and they’re both probably too drunk to get it up anyway. 

Harvey feels a wave of exhaustion hit him and he starts stripping down, contemplating Mike’s slumbering form. He should go in one of the guest rooms. He should cover Mike with a blanket and let him wake up tomorrow morning, by himself, hung-over, and a little embarrassed but no worse for the wear. But Harvey finds that he doesn’t want to sleep alone and the king size bed is big enough for two, so he turns out the lights, folds his clothes over the reading chair, shoves Mike over to his side and climbs under the covers.

He and Mike will talk about what happened tonight in the morning. He’s asleep before his head even hits the pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay y'all! This is my first chaptered story and it turns out I'm slower than anticipated. Buuut .... the next chapter is finally here! \o/ I really appreciate everyone who stuck around and is still reading. I hope it was worth the wait!
> 
> [mskatej](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mskatej/pseuds/mskatej) continues to be a BOSS on the beta front :-D

Harvey wakes the next morning to a splitting headache tempered by hot, intense, wet pleasure. 

The sensation is familiar but he can’t quite place it and it feels wonderful so for a moment he floats just under the shield of unconsciousness riding the ebbs and flows and letting it subdue the ache in his head. Awareness creeps in slowly. He can tell that he’s on his back. His head hurts but that warm, exquisite heat is coming from much lower. Ripples of pleasure are radiating out from his groin. It’s coming from his cock. Someone is sucking his cock. He's at the cabin in the Berkshires and Zoe is sucking his cock. No. He came here last night with Mike. Last night he and Mike got drunk and made out on the way up to the cabin, passed out in bed together, and right now they're supposed to be having a serious conversation about the merits of those choices but instead, Mike is sucking Harvey’s cock.

Harvey opens his eyes, wincing at the morning light seeping through the blinds. As good as it feels, he needs to stop this before it gets any more out of hand. He looks down, fully intending to do just that, but the sight of Mike looking up at him, eyes heavy-lidded, hair sleep-ruffled, with his lips wrapped around Harvey’s dick is so sexy the words die on his tongue.

Mike drags his mouth up Harvey’s length, coming off of it with a lewd pop and Harvey's body turns traitor, chasing after the sensation with a small thrust of his hips. Mike licks his lips and gives Harvey a smile that’s dangerously close to a smirk. “Good morning.”

Good morning indeed. Harvey squeezes his eyes shut again, casting about in his head for the train of thought he was having. Something about being responsible. Oh, right. “We can’t do this." 

Mike gives a silent laugh and the warm puffs of air against Harvey’s spit-wet cock send fresh waves of heat rolling through his body. When Harvey looks down again Mike is looking at him like he’s already had this conversation in his head and he’s got that expression he always gets when he’s determined to push Harvey’s boundaries. It should make Harvey feel a lot of things. Insanely turned on is not one of them.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Mike says with a sly smile. “We can do whatever the hell we want.”

Harvey rolls his eyes. “It’s Massachusetts, Mike. Not the Arctic Tundra.”

Mike shrugs and runs his hands along the tops of Harvey’s thighs. Harvey has to fight against the way his eyes try to flutter shut at how good the contact feels. “Might as well be,” Mike says, as he increases the pressure and reach of his strokes, pressing his thumbs into Harvey’s inner thighs in a circular motion. “It's just you and me.” Mike’s thumbs are covering more and more territory as his hands move higher on Harvey’s legs. 

Harvey’s suddenly aware that he’s not wearing the boxers he had on when he went to bed last night. Mike must have taken them off. Harvey wonders if Mike took his own off too. If he’s naked under the sheet covering most of his body. If he’s hard. 

Harvey swallows and tries to maintain the tenuous grasp he’s got on his self control. “This is a bad idea,” he says, without conviction. “We have to go back to work on Mon-”

Mike presses with his palms and Harvey can’t contain the gasp that escapes as he pushes Harvey’s legs open wider on the bed. Mike gives him a satisfied smile and leans in to lay wet sucking kisses along the crease of Harvey's groin. "Monday is two full days away. We'll burn that bridge when we get to it," he says, lips brushing against Harvey's scrotum as he switches sides.

Harvey's dick jumps where it lies heavy and hard against his stomach. He can feel himself leaking a sticky puddle onto the spot just under his belly button.

"Let me take care of you," Mike murmurs into damp skin and something about the way he says it, like he needs it as much as Harvey does, makes Harvey moan and arch his back. Mike hums approvingly, catching Harvey’s eye and holding it as he sticks his tongue out wide and flat and licks Harvey’s dick like it’s a popsicle from root to tip.

Harvey’s breath leaves him in a rush and he can’t remember what exactly it was about this he was objecting to. Mike circles a hand around the base of the shaft and brings Harvey’s cock to his mouth so he can press hot, wet, swollen lips to the sensitive spot just under the head before sucking it in. Harvey lets out a deep groan at the overwhelming pleasure and props himself up on one elbow so he can watch, captivated, as Mike sucks him in slow, deep, noisy strokes. It’s obvious this is not the first time he’s done this. Harvey reaches a hand out and buries it in Mike’s hair, moaning at the way Mike speeds up at the extra contact. He looks at Mike’s face, taking in the flush that’s brightest on his cheeks and fans out to his chest. Mike’s eyes are closed and he’s letting out these little moans every few seconds like it tastes so good he can’t help himself. 

“Look at me,” Harvey says.

Mike opens his eyes and looks at Harvey dead on and Harvey can’t anticipate the way it hits him in the chest and then sends sparks of heat shooting down to his groin. For a moment they’re suspended there, Harvey rendered powerless by the unfiltered arousal in Mike’s eyes. There’s something in them that Harvey could lose himself in and the dangerous, heady thrill of it sends a shock of hot electricity straight to his cock. His awareness narrows to the sight of Mike’s lips, deep pink and shiny with his saliva, the soft, wet heat of his mouth, his tongue, providing that perfect friction and Harvey’s orgasm takes him by surprise. A rush of intense pleasure starts in his groin and explodes out to the rest of his body with a force that leaves Harvey gasping for breath through helpless moans. Mike maintains eye contact as he swallows around Harvey, the vibration of a groan rumbles in his throat. Harvey tightens his grip in Mike’s hair. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispers, as Mike releases him and his softening cock falls against his thigh with a soft smack. Mike presses the side of his face into Harvey’s inner thigh, moaning as he jerks himself under the covers. Harvey pulls weakly at his ear. 

“Come here,” he says, his voice rough. Harvey feels like he’s floating. His limbs feel loose and relaxed and his brain feels fuzzy, like it’s wrapped in a warm blanket, and the urge to close his eyes and embrace that sensation is strong, but the desire to see Mike come is overwhelming. He tugs again. “I want to see you.”

Mike crawls up Harvey’s body, straddling Harvey’s stomach, and gets up on his knees. He’s the picture of depravity: his cock is flushed and hard, a stretch of pink splashed down his neck and onto his chest contrasts beautifully with the otherwise pale hue of his skin, and he’s looking down at Harvey with glazed eyes and an expression so full of lust Harvey sucks in a shaky breath.

Mike spits into his palm and reaches down to grab his cock, jerking it in short fast strokes. Harvey can tell from the stutter in Mike’s breathing that this isn’t going to last very long. He brings his hands up to stroke Mike’s thighs. Mike bites his lip and closes his eyes momentarily at the contact so Harvey keeps moving his hands, taking more and more liberty with the breadth of his strokes. 

He alternates between watching Mike’s face and looking at his cock, memorizing the way he massages the underside of the head with his fingers between every stroke. He feels Mike shudder when he brings his hands around to cup Mike’s ass, stroking down the backs of his thighs. He keeps pressing inward, stroking closer and closer to Mike’s crack and watching Mike’s mouth fall open as he starts to lose his rhythm. On the next stroke, Harvey spreads Mike’s cheeks, exposing him to the air, and ghosts the index finger of his right hand over Mike’s hole. Harvey barely touches him, but just the suggestion is enough to set Mike off. He gasps and comes all over Harvey’s chest in hot, white stripes. 

Mike goes boneless after his orgasm passes catching himself with his arms before he collapses into the mess he made on Harvey's chest and suddenly they're face to face. Mike smiles at him and it's too genuine to be smug, but it has an element of "I told you so" in it that Harvey finds strangely endearing. His gaze drops to Mike's lips, swollen and wet, and before he can stop himself, Harvey reaches up to cup the back of Mike's neck, bringing him closer, and kisses him.

Mike makes a surprised sound but responds immediately, pressing his tongue into Harvey's mouth and giving Harvey a taste of himself that makes him groan. It's not as heated as it was the night before, now it's lazy and sated, but Harvey still gets the same feeling of safety. He loses himself in the sensation, kissing Mike until they break apart panting. 

Mike flops onto his back next to him and exhales a big breath. "Wow, that good, huh?"

Harvey turns to him and purses his lips. “Don’t be cocky.”

Mike chuckles and shakes his head. 

Now that the stupor is passing Harvey looks down in dismay at the sticky, rapidly cooling come on his chest. Mike smirks at him. “I guess you get to use the bathroom first.”

“Such a gentleman.”

“Grammy taught me well,” Mike replies with a smile, and there’s a beat before a sadness creeps in that twists Harvey’s insides uncomfortably. Mike blinks and turns his head away, looking at the ceiling. Without thinking about it, Harvey reaches down and grasps Mike’s hand, twining their fingers together and squeezing because he knows that feeling of dull emptiness, that void that will never be full again. Mike lets out a shuddering breath and squeezes back. They lay there like that for several minutes. Harvey listens to the sounds of the birds outside and just breathes with him and somehow this feels like the most intimate thing they’ve done all morning. They’re so in sync that Harvey can almost feel the exact moment Mike settles under the shifting weight of his grief. His breathing evens out and a little bit of the tension leaves his body. 

Harvey turns to look at him. “Good?” 

Mike doesn’t say anything but he takes a deep breath and nods. 

Harvey goes to use the bathroom and when he’s done he climbs back under the covers. By the time Mike emerges he’s fallen into a light doze. He can feel Mike slide into bed next to him before he drifts back off into a deep sleep.

```

The next time Harvey wakes it’s several hours later and the late morning sunlight is streaming through the blinds unrepentantly. He stretches and turns his head to the side to look at Mike who’s still deep in slumber, drooling into the pillow, and looking very much at peace. Harvey studies him, his face unguarded in sleep. 

It’s no secret that Harvey likes to live on the edge. He takes calculated risks routinely, just as often in service of Jessica and the firm as in his own self interest. It's not just the way Harvey does his job it's the way he lives his life. But this? Waking up in bed next to Mike, his associate with fabricated credentials, who depends on Harvey for pretty much everything good he's got going on in his life right now? And two weeks after Mike's grandmother died? The morally dubious nature of his actions aside, even still, this takes the cake. What the fuck is he going to tell Jessica? Donna? 

Nothing. Obviously. He can’t. But he also can't seem to deny himself what Mike is offering. So now he finds himself wondering if it's possible for them to indulge for the next two days and then go back to the way things were when they get back to the office on Monday. Harvey’s rational side knows it's a bad idea. Mike is an emotional guy already, made even more unpredictable by the trauma of his grandmother's death. There's no telling how this weekend could affect their working relationship. Things have already gone too far and if Harvey were being practical he'd call for a car to take them back to the city right now. But having Mike in bed next to him, naked and warm, is making it impossible to be practical.

Mike stirs and opens his eyes lazily, giving Harvey a sleepy smile before he closes them again. “Can you stop thinking so loudly? Some of us are trying to get some sleep around here.”

Harvey rolls his eyes and looks at the clock on the wall. “It’s almost noon.”

“See,” Mike says, burrowing deeper under the covers. “Much too early for whatever deep thoughts you’re having, Jack Handey.” Harvey pokes him and Mike stretches with a loud groan and turns onto his side to face Harvey, opening his eyes and propping his head up on his hand, his arm bent at the elbow. He looks so relaxed and comfortable looking down at Harvey and his demeanor is in such juxtaposition to the enormity of what's just happened between them that Harvey can’t help but chuckle.

Mike smiles. “What?”

“Just,” Harvey says, shaking his head. “This,” He gestures between them, “is not what I was expecting.”

Mike’s smile widens into a grin and he waggles his eyebrows. “Good surprise though, right?” He watches Harvey struggle for words for a few moments before he scoots closer, pressing his naked body against Harvey's side, “Look, I get it,” he says and he’s still smiling but he’s speaking in a low, serious tone, “this can’t go back to the city with us. It’s too complicated." He raises a hand to Harvey’s chest and traces the index finger down Harvey’s sternum to rest in his belly button. "Let's just have a little fun for the next couple days. The last few weeks have been shitty. We deserve this.” Mike drops his voice an octave. “And I promise I won’t tell anyone how easily you folded this morning.” He pinches one of Harvey’s nipples.”I know you have a reputation to maintain."

Harvey bats his hand away and scoffs. “You mean how you took advantage of me while I was sleeping?”

“Oh please,” Mike replies with a snort. “You loved it.”

Harvey looks at Mike, who’s smiling back at him with such genuine pleasure and makes a decision. “No one can know about this," he says, and Mike breaks into a grin and then tries and fails to arrange his face into a serious expression, miming locking his mouth with a key and throwing it over his shoulder. “ _No one._ Not Donna, not Rachel, not Howard-”

“Howard?”

Harvey waves his hand dismissively. “The other blond one, you’re always consorting with.”

“That’s Harold,” Mike says rolling his eyes. “Do you really not know anyone else’s name?”

“Definitely not Louis,” Harvey continues without skipping a beat. “And this part is important so listen up. If Jessica ever finds out this happened; I mean if she even so much as suspects this happened, she will have your ass and mine. And not in the fun way.”

Mike grins. “So you’re open to that?”

Harvey glares at him with his most serious rendition of what Donna refers to as his "heel puppy" expression. The grin disappears but there's still the trace of a cheeky smile as Mike crosses his heart and raises the three fingers of his right hand in the Boy Scout's salute.

"If you say ‘scout's honor’ this is not happening.”

Mike chuckles and Harvey studies his face, looks deep into his eyes. He finds sincerity and something else there. Trust? Devotion? An uncomfortable tightness settles in Harvey’s chest. “Well we’re not staying in bed all day,” he says, starting to get up.

Mike throws himself back against the pillows. “Isn’t that kind of the point of a top secret booty call weekend trip?” 

He places a hand under the covers and starts moving it southward with a look on his face that makes it hard for Harvey to scoot away from him and slide out of the bed. But Harvey's not twenty anymore- hell, he's not thirty anymore - and while the concept of two orgasms before breakfast is enticing, he's not sure it's feasible. Besides a plan is starting to form in his head. “Not the kind I’m on.”

Mike groans. “You don’t understand, I need my rest. My boss is a total hardass. He-”

Harvey gets up and rips the covers off the bed before Mike can finish, enjoying the pained sound of protest Mike makes and the sight of his bare ass against the white sheets in equal measure. Mike glares at him. “Mean.”

“Get up. Get showered.”

Mike turns onto his back and there he is, stretched out on the bed in front of Harvey. He’s slim but fit. The subtle lines of his lightly muscled frame make a pretty picture spread out for the taking and he knows it. His eyes roam over Harvey’s naked body like he’s been stranded in the desert for months and the sight is a cool glass of water. “You sure?” He says, that seductive confidence leaking into his tone as he folds his hands behind his head. His cock is half hard already, nestled in downy curls. Tempting. 

It’s not without effort that Harvey turns away from the bed and pads over to the window. He opens the blinds and cracks the window itself, letting sunlight and the sharp, fresh smell of autumn into the room. “We’re going out on the lake.” Harvey had already rented a boat to take Zoe out. It was supposed to be for a romantic brunch on the water, but he figures it will do nicely for a mid afternoon lunch with Mike. 

“There’s a pharmacy in town. I’m going to get sunscreen,” he says.

Mike’s expression transforms into a pout. “I’m pretty sure leaving me in the cabin by myself is a party foul.”

Harvey grins as he starts walking toward the bathroom. “You’ll manage,” he says, chuckling at Mike’s outraged groan as he shuts the door.

```  
Harvey takes his time in the shower. When he comes out of the bathroom Mike has vacated the bed and Harvey can hear the shower running down the hall. Harvey finds his weekend bag on top of the bed with a note in Mike’s scrawl on the back of a crumpled up sheet of orange paper.

_This Nondisclosure Agreement (the "Agreement") is entered into by and between Harvey Reginald Specter ("Disclosing Party") and Michael James Ross ("Receiving Party") ;-) for the purpose of preventing the unauthorized disclosure of Confidential Information as defined below. The parties agree to enter into a confidential relationship with respect to the disclosure of certain proprietary and confidential information ("Confidential Information")._

_1. Definition of Confidential Information. For purposes of this Agreement, "Confidential Information" shall include all information related to all the hot, dirty sex that will occur between both parties on the weekend of September 21st, 2012._

_2. Exclusions from Confidential Information. Receiving Party's obligations under this Agreement do not extend to information that is: (a) publicly known at the time of disclosure or subsequently becomes publicly known through no fault of the Receiving Party including but not limited to Donna's freakish powers of deduction; (b) is disclosed by Receiving Party with Disclosing Party's prior written approval._

_3. Obligations of Receiving Party. Receiving Party shall hold and maintain the Confidential Information in strictest confidence for the sole and exclusive benefit of the Disclosing Party. Receiving Party shall not, without prior written approval of Disclosing Party, use for Receiving Party's own benefit including but not limited to gaining prestige in the Lord of the Flies-esque wasteland that is the associate pool, publish, copy, or otherwise disclose to others, or permit the use by others for their benefit or to the detriment of Disclosing Party, any Confidential Information. _

_4. Time Periods.  The nondisclosure provisions of this Agreement shall survive the termination of this Agreement and Receiving Party's duty to hold Confidential Information in confidence shall remain in effect until the Confidential Information no longer qualifies as a potential career ending secret or until Disclosing Party sends Receiving Party written notice releasing Receiving Party from this Agreement, whichever occurs first._

_5. Relationships. This is a booty call. Nothing contained in this Agreement shall be deemed to constitute either party a partner or joint venturer of the other party for any purpose._

_6. Severability. If a court finds any provision of this Agreement invalid or unenforceable, the remainder of this Agreement shall be interpreted so as best to effect the intent of the parties._

_7. Integration. This Agreement expresses the complete understanding of the parties with respect to the subject matter and supersedes all prior proposals, agreements, representations, and understandings. This Agreement may not be amended except in a writing signed by both parties._

_8. Waiver. The failure to exercise any right provided in this Agreement shall not be a waiver of prior or subsequent rights._

_This Agreement and each party's obligations shall be binding on each party. Each party has signed this Agreement._

Mike’s signature is scrawled across the bottom of the page with a line drawn for Harvey’s next to it. Harvey can just imagine the grin on Mike’s face as he signed his name. Harvey turns the piece of paper over to find that it’s a two year old flyer for a summer concert in Prospect Park. The little shit. The agreement is pretty much a moot point, by virtue of the simple fact that telling anyone about this weekend would be a kamikaze move of sorts - for both of them; which should be sufficient motivation for them both to keep quiet. Naturally, though, the contract is flawless, containing all the necessary elements of a non-disclosure agreement and Harvey is unreasonably charmed by this fact. 

Rather than standing in the bedroom half naked and smiling like an idiot, he tucks the piece of paper into the side pocket of his bag and dresses to go. He makes a quick stop downstairs to drink a smoothie prepared by their chef for the weekend, Antonio, with whom he leaves instructions for lunch and who he tells to take good care of their guest when Mike comes downstairs. Harvey didn’t mention anything to Mike about Antonio, partly because they never got around to it, and partly because Harvey takes an odd sort of pleasure in springing the finer things in life on Mike unexpectedly. There’s something about Mike’s reaction that’s so genuine it gives Harvey a special high. Even now, Harvey feels a thrill in anticipation of Mike’s excitement when he returns.

With that thought in mind Harvey grabs the keys to the car provided for the weekend and heads out to the garage to get on the road.

```

The cabin is about 20 minutes from a small town called Lenox, Massachusetts in the heart of the southern Berkshires. Long, winding mountain roads lead down to a valley where the town is nestled. In a nod to fall, the two lane highway is lined with trees in various shades of, chestnut, auburn and gold that create a breathtaking view as they reflect the sunlight filtering through the vegetation. Harvey’s always liked to drive because it helps him think. Something about the power of the engine under his fingertips lulls his brain into a zone that clears it of clutter and allows it to function unimpeded, producing clear, unfettered thoughts. There’s almost no traffic on the road to Lenox and as he propels the car through the hilly terrain he lets his mind wander.

The past few months have been an exercise in grace under pressure at Pearson Hardman. Ever since Daniel showed up on their doorstep it feels like they’ve been drifting from crisis to crisis, putting out fires on a regular basis, and often escaping by the skin of their teeth. When Jessica and Harvey first met she told him she saw something in him, a bullishness that could be either his saving grace or his downfall in this business. Harvey likes to think he’s fashioned it into a strength; something that allows him to focus with laser sharp intensity on the ultimate goal, impervious to distractions. The stress of work gives Harvey’s life an edge that he’s always enjoyed. But being in a constant state of DEFCON1 these past few months has taxed Harvey’s reserves, and for the first time in a long time he finds himself feeling emotionally vulnerable.

Zoe understood him in a way that made him feel connected and helped to alleviate some of his growing anxiety at work. In the wake of the bombshell she dropped last night, the fact that Harvey went to Mike isn’t what surprises him. For all of Mike’s flaws, his loyalty to Harvey is absolute, and wanting him there when Harvey’s feeling dangerously off-kilter doesn’t come as a shock. Rather, the disconcerting thing about this whole situation is the ease with which Harvey allowed Mike to convince him that the cure for what ails them both is a weekend spent crossing lines that will inevitably make both of their lives more complicated. It seems Harvey’s weak spot for Mike’s emotionally compromised logic extends further than originally estimated.

So here he is, on his way to the local pharmacy, and he’s not going for sunscreen. In spite of what he told Mike, there’s sunscreen at the cabin. Of course there is. And even if there weren’t, Harvey’s nothing if not prepared. He has some in his overnight bag. What he doesn’t have in his overnight bag is lube; because he wasn’t planning on fucking Mike this weekend when he packed. His plans for the weekend, however, seem to be changing at breakneck speed.

Harvey pulls up at the shop and parks near the front. When he gets inside he spends a few minutes browsing the snack section and then goes to grab some sunscreen in case Mike decides to be a smart ass. Soon, though, Harvey’s standing in the contraceptives aisle staring at the row of lubricants next to the condoms. Is he really about to do this? Is he actually about to buy lube in anticipation of having sex with his associate?

Harvey closes his eyes; tries to summon all the reasons why he shouldn’t go through with this. Why he should go back to the cabin and tell Mike he won’t risk it. But all he can see behind his closed eyelids is Mike’s face looking down at him with such naked desire, all he can hear is the desperate sound Mike made right before he came all over Harvey’s chest.

Harvey opens his eyes and thinks, fuck it. He grabs a bottle of lube off the shelf and heads for the checkout.

```

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Unfortunately I have never been to the Berkshires and there’s only so much Google Maps and the internet can tell you. So if you’ve been there, and this isn’t how it is, I apologize, if you haven’t been there, it is exactly the way I described. ;-) 
> 
> \- The text of the nondisclosure agreement in this chapter is an edited version of the sample nondisclosure agreement found [here](http://www.nolo.com/legal-encyclopedia/sample-confidentiality-agreement-nda-33343.html). It’s mostly been edited for humor and I’m also not a lawyer so if you are and it sucks, please accept my sincerest apologies.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, to my badass beta mskatej.
> 
> Happy Season 3.5!

When Harvey gets back to the cabin he finds Mike eating on the deck overlooking the water. He’s facing Harvey with his back to the sun and he’s got a pair of Harvey’s sunglasses on. A New York Knicks cap is pulled low on his forehead.

“Nice shades,” Harvey comments as he comes through the French doors onto the patio.

What he can see of the grimace/glare Mike gives him when he looks up is priceless. 

“You should _not_ have let me drink that much champagne,” Mike grumbles between bites of what appears to be a nearly demolished plate of bacon and eggs. He pushes the sunglasses further up his nose with one hand and points at Harvey with his fork in the other. “You’re a toxic friend.”

It’s low hanging fruit, so Harvey just lets the irony lie. “You seemed fine this morning,” he says with a grin, sitting down across the table.

“Mitigating circumstances,” Mike says, and takes a long sip of the coffee in front of him. “It hit me just how much I drank last night when I became vertical and came out onto this torture chamber you call a balcony.” He pulls the bill of his cap down further and looks around in apparent contempt at the sunlight filtering through the trees. “Again, your idea.”

Harvey notes that Mike makes no mention of regretting what happened between them as a direct result of their excessive drinking. This gives him a dangerous swooping sensation in his gut, which he immediately quashes. “I see you ordered the hangover special,“ he says, indicating the now empty plate, coffee cup, and tall glass of water that Mike is currently downing.

“Even came with a side of aspirin.” Mike pushes the plate away and grabs the coffee again. “Hey, how are you so ‘not hungover’?”

Because Harvey took aspirin and drank water before bed and this morning. He just smiles and says, “Practice,” to which Mike responds by lowering the sunglasses just enough for Harvey to see him roll his eyes, before pushing them back into place.

Harvey’s phone pings and he pulls it out by rote to respond to what turns out to be a mundane email from a client, and then several more. They sit in silence for a while, Mike sipping at the remainder of his coffee and Harvey typing away on his phone.

The aspirin must be kicking in because Mike removes the hat and sunglasses and turns to look out at the lake. Then he turns back around to Harvey and drains this coffee mug, placing it on the table. “So, how many puppies did you have to drown to get a place like this?”

“Not as many as you’d think. My brother owns half of it.”

Mike’s jaw drops open almost comically and he says “You have a brother?” His inflection makes it both an expression of disbelief and an accusation. “How do I not know this?” he asks, spreading his hands out above his head dramatically.

“It never came up.” 

Mike tilts his head to the side, arching an eyebrow and pursing his lips.

That’s fair. They covered a good amount of their personal histories the night they smoked together, so given that Harvey hadn’t mentioned Marcus up to that point, that would have probably been the time. Harvey hums and raises his hands, conceding the omission. Mike seems sufficiently mollified by the gesture but Harvey can practically hear the gears whirring in his head. He's going to have to answer about a million questions as penance. 

“His name is Marcus, he’s five years younger than me and he doesn’t live in New York,” Harvey says, “but I’d like to get out on the water before sundown so if you don’t mind I’d prefer to move this deposition down to the dock.”

Mike looks at Harvey through narrowed eyes and nods slowly. “Okay fine, but you will answer my questions.” He leans forward. “All of them.” 

Well, they’ll have to see about that, but Harvey nods and goes to grab the lunch Antonio packed for them from inside. It’s in a picnic basket of sorts and Harvey’s stomach rumbles as he grabs it off the counter. Though the smoothie is holding him over, he hasn’t actually had a real meal yet today. He grabs the pharmacy bag and heads back out to the porch. Mike is standing near the edge, looking out onto the water. 

“Got everything you need?” Harvey asks.

Mike turns and looks at Harvey, then down at the plastic pharmacy bag, then back up at Harvey. “You got sunscreen, right?” A conspiratorial grin lights his features. 

Harvey nods without cracking a smile. 

Mike’s grin widens. “Then yeah, I’m good.”

```

They make their way down to the end of the wooden dock that extends off the deck, where a sleek black and white pontoon boat bobs in the water. The sun is high in the sky and its rays make the black paint gleam and the cream colored seats look spectacular in contrast. Mike gives a low whistle as they approach.

Harvey doesn’t come up here enough to make owning a boat worthwhile, but when he does make it up for the odd weekend he rents from the best. Mike hops down onto the boat’s deck, walks to the back near the steering column, and spreads out in the seat under the canopy, running his hands along the fabric. He spreads his legs and looks up at Harvey where he's still standing on the dock. "Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me. Aren't you?”

“You’re hardly the innocent party here.”

“Who said young Ben Braddock was innocent?”

Harvey steps down into the boat, setting the basket and bag down and walks over to the steering wheel. He turns the engine over and lets it idle as he goes to untie the boat from the dock. They coast away from the house, picking up speed as they travel into deeper waters. The noise of the motor is too loud for talking, so Mike sits back and looks out at the scenery as Harvey steers them out onto the lake. It’s a gorgeous day, textbook Massachusetts fall. The sun’s rays reflect off the water and scatter into the foliage. They pass a few boats, whose occupants give them a wave, but the lake is surprisingly empty - maybe because it’s late in the season and the sun is not quite hot enough for swimming. Once they get to the far side of the lake, away from the houses, Harvey kills the engine and they coast to a light bob. Harvey walks to the back of the boat and leans over Mike to throw the anchor into the water.

“So,” Mike says, as if their conversation had never stopped. “How do you know how to operate a boat?”

It’s not the opening question Harvey was expecting but he says simply, “My dad,” as he grabs the picnic basket and goes to sit out in the sun. 

Mike joins him and lies on the cushioned seat opposite Harvey with his eyes closed, kicking his legs up and folding his hands behind his head. He lies quietly, apparently waiting for Harvey to elaborate. Harvey takes a deep breath and pauses, thinking for a moment about how he came to be sitting on a boat with Mike, listening to the way the water laps against its side, about to tell Mike about one of the most cherished memories of his childhood.

Having sex with Mike is one thing, one very inappropriate thing, but this level of emotional intimacy is uncalled for. Harvey scolds himself silently even as he stares out onto the expanse of the lake and opens his mouth to begin.

“When we got to be teenagers, Marcus and I used to come up to the Berkshires with my dad every summer. My dad’s band was a staple at the annual summer music festival in Lenox and he used to pick up some gigs in the area to stretch our stay out for a couple of months. Mostly weddings, dinner parties, stuff like that. We couldn’t afford anything like this,” Harvey gestures back toward the sprawling lake-front properties. “We used to bunk up with the band in a small apartment in town. Six grown men and two teenage boys. We ate a lot of pizza.” Harvey chuckles and closes his eyes, suddenly flooded with memories. ”Anyway, when my dad wasn’t performing or rehearsing he’d find a lake and take us out on the water. He had this thing he always said about how real men know their way around a boat.”

Harvey gets lost in his head for a moment before Mike brings him back to the present with, “So what’s Marcus like?”

He thinks as he pulls a couple of beers out of the basket and offers Mike one. “He’s like you,” he says finally. “Reckless, over-confident, bleeding heart, hopeless romantic-”

“Stop it, Harvey, you're making me blush.”

Harvey grins at him. “He jumps head first into things but he’s so terrifyingly smart that most of the time he lands on his feet.”

Mike laughs, popping the beer open with a built-in bottle opener on the side of the boat. “I guess you’re the one who ends up cleaning up after him those times that he doesn’t.”

“Got it in one.”

From there they commence a game of twenty questions during which Harvey explains between bites of a sandwich that Marcus is a doctor working with Doctors Without Borders in Port-Au-Prince, Haiti. He’s not married, although he recently informed Harvey that he’s now in a “serious” relationship with a fellow physician he met in the program. Harvey talks to him about once a month on what is usually a choppy phone connection. He’s a little shorter than Harvey with hair that’s about five shades lighter and yeah he does alright with the ladies, but Harvey taught him everything he knows.

After that Mike makes Harvey tell him several of his favorite stories from growing up with Marcus including the time Harvey came across Marcus smoking weed with Carly Jones on the fire escape of their apartment and negotiated five weeks of dishwashing duty in exchange for his silence. What Harvey had failed to mention is that he had been on his way to the fire escape to smoke a joint himself.

Mike throws his head back and laughs. “Oh man, what I wouldn’t give to have known you as a teenager.” He looks at Harvey with amusement. “Were you ever, like, awkward and pimply? Or did you just go straight from an adorable little boy to a strapping young stud?”

Harvey grins and leans back against the seat, stretching his arms out along the back. “I think we both know the answer to that question.”

“Oh my god,” Mike says, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure you were insufferable.” He laughs when Harvey shrugs. "So I guess you guys bought the house out here for your dad?"

“It was going to be a surprise. It was under construction when he died. After he passed it became sort of like a tribute to his memory.” Harvey swallows against a wave of melancholy. 

Mike gives a long sigh, like he understands the weight of everything, and Harvey knows that he does. If he’s not careful, Harvey could get used to the sensation of comfort that comes from sharing his burdens with Mike. 

“Gram would have been so happy in that apartment,” Mike says, eyes closed against the sunlight.

Harvey nods. He’s quiet for several moments before asking, “Are you gonna keep it?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” Mike says, with a helpless shrug. “I got it for her, but, it’s different from this place. It’s not like we have memories there.” He sits up. “But enough about me, let’s talk about you,” he says, squinting against the afternoon sun to fix Harvey with a serious expression. “You’ve had a pretty shitty week: an ungrateful emotional train wreck of an associate who asked to be included on a case and then proceeded to almost ruin both of your lives, not to be outdone by the smoldering wreckage of your love life.”

“A shitty week indeed,” Harvey agrees, but the truth is he doesn’t want to talk about any of it. The situation with Zoe is just bad luck and, yeah, Mike screwed up but Harvey should have seen that coming a mile away. Barring that, he should have let Mike take the hit for his own mistake. But he just couldn’t and Harvey can’t decide if he’s more pissed off at Mike for breaking privilege and putting his whole career at risk, or at himself for letting his knee jerk reaction to protect Mike make him do something so far outside his code of professional conduct and bribe Katrina. It all begs the question: Is there any line Harvey won’t cross to protect Mike? Just contemplating that makes Harvey nervous and uncertain, and he feels like he has a stone in his belly. But compartmentalizing his feelings is one of Harvey’s super powers so he files his discomfort away, smiles at Mike, and says, “Luckily, said associate is willing to make amends for his actions by shamelessly throwing himself at me.”

Mike smiles back, immediately flirty and playful. “Shamelessly,” he says with a nod. Almost as though to underscore the point, he rakes his gaze over Harvey from head to toe.

It should probably be a cause for concern that just that look is enough to make Harvey’s blood start to flow in the right direction. Mike with all his charm and charisma is surprisingly sexy when he turns it on, and there’s something indescribably heady about being the focus of his attention. Harvey has often wondered why Rachel keeps coming back for more in spite of Mike’s obvious shortcomings. Now he’s starting to get the picture. He nods toward the plastic bag under the canopy. “You should put on some sunscreen,” he says. “Wouldn’t want you to burn.” 

Mike gets up and goes to retrieve the bag. When he comes back he's holding the sunscreen in one hand and the lube in the other. “Stay classy, San Diego,” he says with a small smile. He pulls his shirt over his head and sits down on the bench opposite Harvey. He sets the container of lube down next to him and uses the thumb of his other hand to open the sunscreen with a snap. Harvey watches as he pours some onto his palm and starts to rub it into his skin.

He completely ignores Harvey as he starts rubbing the lotion into the area just below his collarbone, watching his own hands work. Okay. Two can play this game. Harvey settles into the seat, scooting down and spreading his legs out into a sprawl as he takes in the picture of a shirtless Mike in the afternoon sun. Of course he saw Mike naked this morning, but now he can really look.

Mike could probably stand to put on a few pounds but he’s not skinny, and the lightly muscled, lean look is working for him. Harvey watches as he works the sunscreen into his chest in big, broad circles, running his palms over his nipples until they pebble, hard and shiny in the sun’s rays. Fuck if he doesn’t know how to put on a show. 

He grabs the bottle of sunscreen again and squeezes it directly onto the skin of his abdomen in one long trail from his sternum and through the thin line of golden hair that starts just below his navel and thickens a little before disappearing under the waistband of his pants. 

Harvey can feel his arousal building as Mike rubs the lotion into his stomach in slow, deliberate strokes. He looks up at Harvey and wets his lips as he dips his right hand into his pants, palming himself where Harvey can’t see. Harvey smiles, “You sure you want to do this here?”

Mike doesn’t even glance around. His eyes never leave Harvey as he says, “Worried somebody’s gonna catch us?”

Frankly, Harvey’s too turned on right now to be concerned about anything except what’s going on in Mike’s pants, but revealing all his cards so early would be a terrible strategy, so he just holds his smile and says, “You’re an exhibitionist,” like it’s exactly what he was expecting. 

Head tipped back, Mike lets out a short laugh. Then he looks back at Harvey and makes an observation of his own. “I noticed you didn’t bring any condoms,” he says, gazing at Harvey with an intensity that makes it impossible to look away. “Were you planning on fucking me raw?”

Holy mother of Christ. Harvey swallows and shifts his hips to relieve the pressure on his growing erection. This went from zero to sixty in about fifteen seconds and he should probably pump the brakes but he can’t resist asking, “If I were, would you let me?”

Mike moans softly and closes his eyes. His cheeks are flushed and he looks fucking gorgeous, like he’s about to come apart at the mere suggestion. When he opens his eyes, he looks at Harvey with an unreadable expression and says simply, “I trust you.”

A strange mix of anxiety and arousal shoots through Harvey, and he briefly revisits the question of what exactly the fuck he’s doing with his life. But the sight of Mike, shirt-free, with his hand down his pants, looking at Harvey like he can have literally anything he wants, is so enticing it stops the crisis of conscience before it can bloom. 

He hardly even registers that he’s moving before he’s across the boat and sitting next to Mike, pulling gently on Mike’s earlobe with his teeth. Harvey licks the shell and then blows gently against it, reveling in the shuddering breath Mike lets out in response. “Show me again how you like to be touched.”

Mike groans and lets his head fall back against the seat, exposing his neck which Harvey immediately takes full advantage of. Harvey feels the vibration of Mike’s words under his lips as Mike says, “Pay attention this time.”

He chuckles and nips at Mike’s jaw before pulling back and lifting his hips to retrieve the lube he sat on in his rush to join Mike on the seat. Mike unbuttons and unzips his pants before wriggling them down past his knees and Harvey can see the outline of Mike’s cock as it strains against his boxers. Mike reaches down and strokes it through the black fabric.

They’re in a secluded part of the lake, no houses along the edge, and they’d be able to hear any approaching boat long before its occupants would be able to see them. Still, Harvey’s always gotten a thrill from the threat of public indecency and being out here on the lake with Mike already feels risqué in more ways than one. 

Mike pulls his cock out of the fly in his boxers and he’s so hard it points back at his belly when he lets it go. Harvey's own erection is tenting his pants but he ignores it in favor of unscrewing the top of the bottle of lube and removing the safety seal.

“Litter bug,” Mike deadpans as Harvey tosses the small piece of plastic over the edge of the boat. Harvey chuckles and then shuts him up by pouring a generous amount of lube directly onto his cock.

Mike reacts with a small but sharp intake of breath before reaching down and stroking himself, spreading it all over his dick. Harvey bites his lip and groans as he watches the flushed head, shiny with lube, slide through Mike’s fist with an obscenely wet slurping sound. When Mike gets to the root, he reaches down into his boxers and pulls his balls through the fly. He rolls them roughly in his palm. His legs are spread wide and Harvey can see everything as Mike’s neglected cock bobs against his stomach.

Almost on instinct, Harvey reaches down and takes Mike’s erection in his hand and Mike responds with a choked gasp, thrusting up into Harvey’s fist. Harvey scoots closer on the bench, fitting himself to Mike's side and sets a rhythm, gentle, and then harder, tighter and the feel of Mike's cock in his palm- hard and hot and slick- Mike's body undulating to match the pace of Harvey's strokes is making Harvey’s dick ache for release in the tight confines of his pants. He reaches down and presses the heel of his free hand against his erection, moaning at the sensation. He leans into Mike’s ear, “How long?”

A sharp exhale comes out but Mike doesn't speak and Harvey stops stroking but keeps his hand wrapped loosely around Mike’s cock. He traces the edge of the crown, stroking small circles into the sweet spot just below the head with the pad of his thumb. Mike lets out a helpless little sound so high pitched it's almost a whine before he finds his voice.

"How long what?" he manages. 

“How long have you wanted this?” Harvey presses, without having any idea why.

Mike composes himself enough to give Harvey a half smirk and says, “Since I realized you’d probably be a pretty good lay.”

“So, since you met me?” 

A chuckle gets swallowed by the gasp that escapes when Harvey tightens his grip and starts to stroke in earnest again.

Mike turns to look at Harvey and he looks so fucking wrecked, Harvey can't help himself, he leans in and captures Mike's mouth in a bruising kiss that's more teeth than tongue. The fleeting pain of it adds an edge to Harvey's pleasure that makes him want to rub himself off in his pants.

He sucks Mike's bottom lip into his mouth and drags it between his teeth, his hand unrelenting on Mike's cock. Mike lets out a deep moan and his whole body stiffens as his orgasm hits. He gives one last thrust and comes all over his stomach and Harvey's fist in thick ribbons.

Harvey feels like he’s overheating in the midafternoon sun. His skin feels prickly and damp as he unzips his pants and pulls out his dick. Jerking himself off after giving Mike a rushed hand job is not exactly one of Harvey’s more polished moves, but fuck it, that seems to be the trend for the weekend. As he starts to stroke, Mike slides onto his knees between Harvey’s thighs and looks up at him without an ounce of shame; face flushed, lips swollen and mouth open. Harvey comes within seconds, painting Mike’s mouth and chin. 

Mike sticks his tongue out, licking his lips and chin with this blissed out expression on his face and Harvey's cock throbs almost painfully at the picture he makes. Harvey lets his head fall back, closing his eyes, and taking in deep breaths, feeling his heart pounding against his rib cage. When he finally opens them again he looks down at Mike, still sitting on the floor of the boat with his back against the opposite bench. He looks completely satisfied and completely ridiculous, sitting there in nothing but his underwear with his softened cock still hanging out, his belly shiny with his own come and his chin shiny with some of Harvey’s. 

Still, Mike has the nerve to grin at him and say, “I’d like the record to reflect that I have _literally_ left you sitting there with your dick in your hand.” 

“Shut up,” is all Harvey can muster in response, but a chuckle escapes and when Mike joins in, it quickly escalates to laughter that has them both doubled over and gasping for breath. 

A feeling of lightness comes over Harvey; like the weight of the stress he’s been carrying around has been suddenly lifted. While he’s well aware that this is just a temporary reprieve, he decides to hold onto the feeling. Mike’s right, it’s been a shitty week. Month. Couple of months. They deserve this. Hell, they might even need it.

Mike has been inspecting his torso and when he looks back up at Harvey it’s with an expression that says he’s just realized he’s covered in come. Harvey tucks himself back into his pants and then tosses Mike a couple of napkins from the picnic basket. 

He busies himself drawing the anchor back up onto the boat as Mike cleans himself up and gets dressed. When Harvey goes to sit behind the steering column he catches Mike staring at him intently.

“How do you feel?” Mike asks with a confident smile. 

“Like a nap,” Harvey says, and pulls the lever back to choke, turning the key so that the motor comes roaring to life.

Mike grins and sprawls out facing forward on the bench, his hair blowing in the wind as Harvey navigates them back to the dock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe it took me this long! But I'm nothing if not persistent. :-) Thanks to all those who are still reading, I hope you're still enjoying the story!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to the lovely and talented [mskatej](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mskatej/pseuds/mskatej) for her assistance.
> 
> See end notes for a mild warning that is also a spoiler so ... your call.

Harvey was serious about that nap and when he gets back to the cabin, he drags himself upstairs, takes off his clothes, and face plants onto the bed. He feels the mattress dip next to him under Mike’s weight and that's the last thing he remembers before waking up in a groggy daze to the heavenly aroma of perfectly seasoned meat.

When the world comes back into focus, Mike is padding over from the doorway carrying a tray with two plates of burgers, fries, and two glasses with the sweat of condensation fogging the sides. “Oh good, you’re alive,” he says as he rounds the foot of the bed.

Harvey stretches and yawns loudly, sitting up against the headboard. The sky outside is the rich navy blue of a clear moonlit night. “What time is it?”

“You mean what year?” Mike says, setting the tray down in the middle of the bed. He arranges the pillows on his side and sits down carefully. “You slept for, like, ever. I was about to check your pulse.”

“Your concern is overwhelming,” Harvey says as he grabs a plate. He looks at the clock on the wall, 7:17, which means he slept for just over three hours. Much longer than he intended, but apparently he needed it because he feels more rested than he has in a while. Mike looks better too. The way his hair is pressed to the right side of his head along with the creases he’s got in his cheek indicate he slept just as well as Harvey.

After putting ketchup on his burger, Mike takes a bite and moans, chewing with his eyes closed.

“Should I give you two a minute?”

He puts a hand up in Harvey’s general direction and swallows. “This is amazing,” is all he manages before going in for a second bite.

Harvey’s stomach rumbles and he realizes he’s actually starving so he picks up his burger and takes a bite. Mike’s right, this burger is one of the best things to happen to Harvey in several weeks. Rather than concede this to him, Harvey just takes another bite and soon they’ve lapsed into a comfortable silence as they each devour the food on their plate.

Mike finishes first, knocking back what remains of the beer in his glass, putting his plate back on the tray and collapsing dramatically back against the pillows with a loud groan.

After a moment he comes back to life, stealing a fry from Harvey’s plate and grinning when Harvey swats at him. “So did you have plans for tonight?” he skates his fingers lightly over the sheets from Harvey’s left kneecap to his mid-thigh. “You know, besides the wild and crazy sex?”

Harvey swallows his last bite and sets his plate on top of Mike’s. “Give me some credit,” he says, emptying his own glass. “I’m gonna get you drunk first.”

“Awesome. Can we drink in that room with the big couch and the huge TV?”

“Sure,” Harvey says, with a smile. “I’ll even let you choose the movie.”

“Whoa,” Mike says, eyes narrowing. “Who are you and what have you done with Harvey?”

Shaking his head, Harvey pulls the covers off and swings his legs toward the edge of the bed. “I’m getting in the shower,” he says, getting up and walking toward the bathroom. “I’ll meet you downstairs in 30?”

“Yeah sure. That sounds good.”

For the second time that day, Harvey takes a long, hot shower. This time however, he’s markedly more relaxed. His muscles feel loose and rested and his mind is calm. The nervous energy of this morning; the stress of work, even the heartache of lost opportunities with Zoey; it’s all fading to the background and he feels … good. He stands under the spray for a long time, letting it hit him on the nape of his neck, and marinates in the freedom of the moment.

It’s like he and Mike have entered this sweet spot of time in which the context of daily life is suspended. They’re in their own little bubble and in spite of everything that happened before they got here, Harvey feels unburdened in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. He chooses to embrace that sensation for the time being.

He gets out of the shower when his fingertips start to prune and when he opens the bathroom door, a billow of steam follows him out into the bedroom. He pulls on comfortable sweatpants and a soft, long sleeve shirt before heading downstairs where Mike has already made himself comfortable. He’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt and he’s laid out with a bowl of freshly popped popcorn while he familiarizes himself with the myriad remotes that adorn the coffee table.

“This set up is so 90s,” Mike says by way of greeting, when Harvey enters the room. “You should come into the 21st century and just have one remote for everything.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.” Harvey walks to the fire place and starts putting in logs.

Once he gets a fire going, he goes over to the bar on the opposite side of the room and pours them each a couple of fingers of scotch from the decanter sitting on top.

Mike sits up to accept his drink, but he’s still halfway on the center cushion so when Harvey takes a seat next to him they slide together toward the middle so that they’re sides are in full contact from shoulder to toe. Rather than adjust his position Mike just sinks further into the couch - and Harvey by association - letting out a deep sigh and grabbing a throw pillow to prop behind his head. He smells like a mixture of Old Spice body wash and the peach conditioner in the guest bathroom and Harvey feels like he could melt into his body heat.

Instead, he pulls it together and snatches the bowl of popcorn out of Mike’s lap, popping a few pieces into his mouth and pointing at the TV screen where Mike seems to have figured out how to navigate to Netflix through the Roku. “What’s your poison?”

Mike takes a long pull of scotch and hums in approval, raising the glass to examine the amber liquid. “Liquor this good deserves a classic mob movie.”

As it turns out, Netflix has a rather limited selection available for streaming - there are only two movies that meet their criteria - and they spend approximately ten minutes arguing about who does the best impression of _Donnie Brasco_ 's “fuget about it” before ultimately deciding on _Scarface_.

After they finish their first drinks they decide that playing a drinking game in which they take a healthy gulp every time Al Pacino’s character makes a reference to “fucking” sounds like an excellent idea. Pretty soon they remember that fucking and money is almost all Tony Montana talks about, but by then they’re already nicely buzzed.

Harvey goes to the kitchen for two bottles of water and when he comes back, Mike is stretched out on his side against the back of the couch, leaving plenty of space for Harvey to lie down next to him. He makes no move to get up and pats the cushion in front of him with a lazy smile.

“You’re drunk,” Harvey observes with a grin as he hands Mike his water and takes a few swallows of his own.

Mike keeps his eyes on Harvey as he drinks. “Mission accomplished,” he says, grinning back as he hands Harvey his bottle.

Screwing the caps back on, Harvey places both bottles on the end table before lying down next to Mike. The couch is big enough that he can lie down on his back, but it’s still a tight squeeze and Mike’s front is pressed up tight against Harvey’s side. The fire is putting off some real heat now, stray embers popping and crackling in the background. Harvey feels warm and relaxed, and the way Mike is squirming against him has low grade arousal permeating his body.

Harvey turns his head toward Mike and they’re so close they’re breathing the same air. Mike is looking at Harvey with hooded eyes, a flush splashed across his cheeks. He puts his hand under Harvey’s shirt and dips it into his sweats, pulling Harvey closer to him with a palm against Harvey’s hip. Harvey lets out a rush of air that’s almost a moan, turning onto his side and closing what little distance there is between them.

When Mike leans in, he starts out with slow, almost languid, kisses and soon he’s licking into Harvey’s mouth like he wants to taste everything. Harvey loses himself in the silky heat of Mike’s tongue sliding against his, groaning into the kiss.

Their hips fall into a rhythmic grind. Harvey can feel Mike’s erection growing against his own and the friction feels good, but it’s not enough. He shifts Mike’s weight so he can roll on top of him. Using his knees to spread Mike’s legs open as far as he can on the couch, he places his hands on either side of Mike’s torso for leverage and thrusts down against his cock with purpose. Mike moans, panting against Harvey’s mouth. He snakes his hands down the back of Harvey’s sweatpants to grasp the bare skin of Harvey’s ass like he’s holding on for dear life and pulls Harvey’s groin toward him on the down thrust; pushing up to meet him; slowly increasing the pressure and heat between them until Harvey pins Mike to the couch with his body and swallows his moan with a kiss before pulling back. “Where’s the lube?”

Mike gives him a wicked smile and says, "Are you gonna use a condom?”

Of course Harvey brought one downstairs with him, because over the years he's learned a thing or two about avoiding temptation. There is absolutely no reason why he should even be considering having sex with Mike without it. It's the most irresponsible thing he could possibly do and, given the list of choices he's already made this weekend, that's saying something. And yet, in lieu of answering, Harvey bends down and sucks a hickey into the skin just above Mike’s collarbone.

Mike groans as Harvey marks him and when Harvey pulls back to admire his handiwork Mike twists his body so he can reach something on the side of the couch. When he turns back around he's holding the lube and looking at Harvey with an expression that makes Harvey reach down and grab Mike's shirt at the neck, bunching the fabric in his fist as he pulls Mike into another kiss. He pulls back and nips at Mike’s bottom lip before running his tongue along the swollen surface. “Did you bring that in here so I could fuck you?”

“Yes,” Mike breathes out in a rush of heated air. He hooks his outside leg over Harvey's and thrusts up against him, blunt edges of his nails digging into Harvey's ass cheeks. The hard ridge of his cock grinds against Harvey's through too many layers of clothing and Harvey feels more than a little out of control.

He sits up so he's straddling Mike's hips, tugging up on the hem of Mike’s shirt. “Off,” Harvey says and helps him struggle out of it, tossing it over the back of the couch.

Putting some space between them is a half-hearted attempt to regain some of his senses, but Harvey’s efforts are foiled at the sight of Mike beneath him on the couch. He reaches down and strokes one of Mike’s nipples in a slow circle, pinching it between two fingers and pulling roughly. Mike arches into the touch, letting out a desperate sound that goes straight to Harvey’s dick and his attention is drawn to the shape of Mike’s open mouth.

His lips look sinful and decadent, swollen and wet, shaded a deep pink and Harvey runs his middle finger over the top and then across the bottom, but before he can complete the circuit Mike snakes his tongue out, beckoning him inside.

Harvey groans as he watches Mike suck his finger in, dick throbbing at the way Mike runs his tongue around the digit, taking it in so far that Harvey can feel the way it turns soft and slick at the entrance to his throat. “I’ve got something else you can wrap that gorgeous mouth around.”

The corners of Mike’s lips turn up and he smiles at Harvey before releasing his finger. “Welcome to the party,” he says, budging down between Harvey’s legs, bringing his face in line with Harvey’s crotch.

Harvey sticks his thumb into the elastic of his boxers and pulls down his underwear and sweats in one go. Mike licks his lips and watches Harvey pull his cock out with singular focus. He seems content to let Harvey take the lead, placing his hands on Harvey's hips but applying no pressure.

As Harvey looks down from where he's straddling Mike's chest, Mike sticks his tongue out as far as it will go and lifts his neck to close the distance; pressing just the soft tip to the underside of the head, he gives it a slow, deliberate lick. Harvey inhales sharply at the explosion of pleasure that floods his body. He angles himself downward, tracing the outline of Mike’s silky wet mouth with his dick, spreading the precum he can feel himself leaking all over Mike's lips. Mike licks them and moans.

“Shit,” Harvey says squeezing himself firmly at the base of his cock. Mike looks so satisfied with himself; if he didn’t have that slightly dazed expression Harvey would say he looks smug.

Mike pulls at his hips, pulling Harvey forward and he can feel the heat of Mike's breath against the tip of his dick as Mike says, "Fuck my mouth," like a command and a plea all rolled into one.

In that moment Harvey can _feel_ the last of his self-control slip away. He reaches down and grabs a fistful of Mike's hair pulling his head into position, guiding just the tip experimentally into his mouth. Mike sucks it in greedily and Harvey slowly increases the depth of his thrusts while Mike lays there, slack jawed, moaning around his cock.

Everything about it feels amazing but the best part is the way Mike is looking up at him like he can't get enough; like he's begging for more, and Harvey gives it to him, pressing deeper and deeper until he can feel the slick flesh of Mike's soft palate against the head of his dick with every thrust.

Mike moves his hands to Harvey’s ass, pulling at Harvey on the down thrust, pressing Harvey further until just like that Mike is deep throating him and Harvey's breath catches in his throat.

“Jesus, look at you,” Harvey says, tightening his grip in Mike’s hair and working his cock in and out in short little thrusts. Mike moans from deep in his chest and the vibration of it around Harvey’s cock makes his vision go fuzzy around the edges. Harvey’s orgasm is closing in on him, and it’s a feat of super human willpower to pull out before the point of no return.

Harvey feels dizzy for several seconds as he watches Mike suck in air, his lips a shiny, wet pink. Mike wipes his mouth with the back of one hand and gives Harvey a lopsided grin.

He should definitely be more concerned by how much he likes this new, weekend Mike. The playful sexual confidence has an addictive quality that would make Harvey nervous if he had any mental capacity left to think about the future.

He stands up to shed his clothes, and Mike removes his shorts and then sits on the couch stroking himself and watching Harvey strip. His eyes are roving around Harvey's body like he's taking in every detail and Harvey can't get naked fast enough. He takes off his shirt and deposits it in a pile with the sweatpants he steps out of as he moves to stand in front of Mike.

Mike’s wandering gaze is now locked onto Harvey's cock where it bobs between his legs, hard and shiny with Mike’s saliva. Mike licks his lips, eyes flicking up to Harvey’s.

"How do you want me?"

Harvey groans. Mike is offering himself up on a freaking platter and he looks as turned on by it as Harvey is.

"Turn around and get up on your knees."

Mike leans over the back of the couch with his knees on the cushions and lets out a little moan when he looks up and catches Harvey's eye in the mirror hanging in the hallway directly behind the couch.

Harvey steps forward and positions himself with a knee between Mike's legs. He runs his index finger down Mike's back from his neck to his tailbone, Mike arching his spine in response. When Mike reaches down to touch himself Harvey grabs his wrist, placing it firmly over the back of the couch and pressing Mike gently to the cushions with his weight, his cock rubbing against the small of Mike’s back.

He looks at Mike’s reflection and says right into his ear, “Not until I say.”

Mike flushes beautifully and Harvey feels him shudder. “Oh you like that do you?” Harvey says, reaching around to tweak Mike’s nipples. “If following orders turns you on so much why can’t you be more obedient at the office?”

Mike lets out a breathy chuckle and grins at Harvey in the mirror. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

Harvey retaliates by nipping at the muscular junction between Mike’s shoulder and neck which makes him let out a satisfying little yelp. Then he laves over the spot with his tongue and reaches for the lube on the right side of the couch. His heart is pounding with anticipation as he squeezes it out onto his fingers. He feels like he’s toeing the edge of a very steep drop, but there’s no way in hell he’s turning back now.

Harvey presses Mike’s legs further apart with his knees and watches Mike’s reflection as he reaches down to circle his hole with a lubed finger. He strokes gently around the tight ring of muscle and Mike’s eyes flutter shut, his mouth falling open around a moan that makes Harvey's cock jump where it's pressed against Mike's back.

"When's the last time you did this?" Harvey asks.

Mike appears unable to open his eyelids more than halfway. "It's been a while."

With a little persistence Harvey’s able to slip the tip of his index finger inside to the first knuckle. Mike starts rocking back against him and things speed up markedly from there. Before long they’ve worked up a sweat between them and Harvey has one finger deep inside, eliciting long, drawn out groans from Mike every time Harvey strokes his prostate.

He pulls back and squeezes some more lube directly on Mike’s hole, slowly working in a second digit and then a third. Harvey’s so distracted by the way Mike feels around his fingers, so hot and tight, that he loses track of time. When he finally looks up Mike’s pupils are blown and he’s looking at Harvey like he’s completely at Harvey’s mercy and he couldn’t be more pleased. There's something about it that makes Harvey reach up to grasp Mike's hips and position his cock at Mike's entrance.

Mike gasps and pushes back and he's so loose and slick with lube that half the head of Harvey’s dick just slides right in. They both moan and before Harvey can think about it he pushes in to the hilt in one slow glide.

He stays still for a moment, feeling Mike pulsing around him, and it vaguely registers that he’s not wearing the condom he brought downstairs with him specifically to avoid this situation. Then Mike starts rolling his hips, thrusting back onto Harvey’s cock in fluid little movements and Harvey loses that train of thought completely.

He starts fucking Mike in short, shallow thrusts, watching Mike’s face in the mirror as it goes slack with pleasure. Harvey wraps an arm around Mike’s stomach, holding Mike to him as he lengthens his strokes. It’s hot and sweaty and a little desperate and soon Mike is moaning wantonly with every thrust and Harvey can feel the tug of his own climax where his balls are pulled up tight against his body.

He reaches down, wrapping his hand around Mike’s cock which is rock hard and flush against his belly. Mike’s knuckles turn white as he squeezes the back of the couch and shudders.

“You wanna come?” Harvey asks, looking at the picture they make in the mirror, faces flushed and temples wet with sweat.

“Yesss,” Mike says around a moan.

“Not until you apologize.” It seems to bubble up out of nowhere and the timing is so wildly inappropriate it’s ridiculous, but Harvey suddenly needs to hear Mike say he’s sorry. For putting himself in jeopardy, for putting them in jeopardy, for almost toppling over everything they’ve built in the past year. In the grip of lust Harvey’s able to admit that what really pissed him off about Mike’s little tantrum is that it brought to light how attached Harvey’s become to him. He’s more than just Harvey’s right arm at the firm, he’s become a part of Harvey’s inner circle and the prospect of losing him had shaken Harvey so badly he’d been willing to cross boundaries he’d set for himself long before he met Mike.

Harvey can’t say for sure that Mike understands all of that but when he stutters out, “I-I’m sorry”, Harvey feels a sense of relief that makes him lightheaded.

He starts moving his fist on Mike’s cock and fucking him in long deep thrusts. Seconds later Mike cries out, spilling hot all over Harvey’s hand. The rhythmic spasms Harvey feels where he’s buried deep inside push him over the edge and an explosion of white hot pleasure overwhelms his senses. He pulls Mike to him as he rides out the waves, moaning into the sweat-soaked trail of hair at the nape of Mike’s neck.

Harvey slumps forward, pressing Mike to the couch cushions. Eventually his softening cock slips out, and a slow dribble of his come starts down Mike’s thigh shortly thereafter. Harvey can’t help himself, he reaches down and gathers it with his fingers, pressing it back inside. He drags his mouth up to Mike’s ear, looking at his reflection, flushed and heavy-lidded, and says, “This is what you wanted right?”

Mike tries to answer but he can’t, he just swallows several times, Adam’s apple bobbing as Harvey fingers him. Finally Harvey takes mercy and reaches back to grab his shirt off the floor, using it to clean Mike up. When he’s done, Harvey levers himself to a standing position and waits for Mike to stretch out on the couch before collapsing next to him.

They lie there for several moments, pressed side to side, the only sounds in the room the sounds of their breathing returning to normal, Tony Montana’s paranoid ranting from the TV, and the occasional tumble of logs shifting in the fireplace as the flames burn hot.

Mike turns to him. “So does this mean I can call you ‘dude’ now?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh my god,” Mike says, rolling his eyes. “You’re even a snob post-coital.” He maneuvers himself so he can lay his head on Harvey's chest, tangling their legs together.

Harvey shifts to accommodate him but says, "We can't sleep here," because even though he pays Antonio well, Harvey doesn't think he pays him quite enough to walk in on them sprawled out naked on the couch when he returns in the morning.

"Mmhmm," Mike hums in response even as he burrows further into Harvey’s side and his breathing starts to even out.

In spite of himself, Harvey's eyelids start to get heavy and he feels the seductive lure of sleep tugging at the edges of his consciousness. He's warmed on one side by the fire and on the other by Mike. His muscles feel loose and pliable, his mind is blissfully empty, and just before he slips under he hears Mike say softly along with Al Pacino, “Say ‘ello to my little friend” and start in on a light snore, almost in the same breath.

He falls asleep with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning for unsafe sex. Or as the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention is now calling it, “condomless” sex.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait! Thanks to all those who've read, commented, and especially to [mskatej](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mskatej/pseuds/mskatej) for her editing prowess and support.
> 
> Happy Holidays y'all!
> 
> See notes at the end of the chapter for warnings.

Harvey comes to consciousness wrapped in a cocoon of warmth so wonderful, he experiences almost instantaneous regret as he feels awareness settling in. He soon realizes, however, that the source of the heavenly heat is a very warm Mike who’s still sleeping soundly, his back pressed firmly against Harvey’s front. They must have relocated upstairs sometime during the night because they’re in the bed with the comforter drawn up over them, locking in the heat of their bodies. Harvey marinates in the sensation for several minutes before he opens his eyes.

The light through the window is still dim, bathing the room in a kind of ash grey luminescence that’s more a reflection of the paint on the walls than anything else. Harvey stretches, extending his legs out fully and pulling Mike toward him with the arm that’s wrapped around Mike’s torso. He mumbles incoherently but doesn’t wake up, moving back into position against Harvey’s chest and pressing his ass against Harvey’s morning wood. 

Harvey grunts as his erection slides into Mike’s crack which is still a little wet with lube and come from the night before. His hips thrust almost of their own accord and there’s an edge to the friction that makes his dick pulse. Mike lets out a sigh in his sleep and presses back against Harvey’s cock again and Harvey groans and holds Mike to him as he starts to thrust in earnest now, his body fully awake in an instant; arousal building steadily in his gut.

It’s starting to get hot under the comforter so Harvey pushes it off their shoulders and then reaches down to grasp Mike’s cock, which he finds hard and leaking at the tip. Mike wakes then, thrusting into Harvey’s fist and then back against his cock with a gasp.

“I see you started without me,” Mike says, voice still husky with sleep.

“Sorry.”

“Say that again into the mic.”

Harvey nips at his earlobe. “Shutup.”

Mike’s chuckle turns into a moan when Harvey smears the precum gathering at the tip of Mike’s dick into the frenulum with his thumb. Sweat is starting to build between them, and where their lower bodies are still buried under the comforter it’s making the slide smooth and easy. Their sighs and moans and the slick sound of skin sliding on skin fill the room. Harvey can feel the blood rushing through his veins, arousal making his skin feel hot and prickly all over, and he doesn’t actually think he’s going to be able to last that much longer. There’s no reason it should be this good. Harvey’s not even inside of him, and yet Mike is thrusting his hips and moaning like he’ll die if Harvey stops. It’s making Harvey feel like his brain is on fire.

He rips the covers off and pushes Mike over onto his stomach. Getting between Mike’s legs and pressing them apart with his knees. He grasps one of Mike’s wrists and brings his hand down toward his ass. “Hold yourself open for me.”

Mike brings his other hand down too and pulls his ass cheeks apart with a loud moan into the pillow under his head. Harvey looks down at Mike’s hole, the light pink pucker surrounded by a smattering of dark blond hair, and places a palm on Mike’s lower back to leverage his weight as he jerks himself off. Mike is thrusting his cock into the mattress and obediently holding himself open and it’s a matter of seconds before Harvey comes with a shout, shooting his load all over Mike’s hole. When he’s done he presses Mike to the mattress with a hand on his neck and slides his dick inside. Mike is still loose from the previous night so there’s only a little resistance and he’s going wild beneath him telling Harvey how good it is; how much he needs it, so Harvey just keeps thrusting, pushing his come inside, until his dick is soft and it’s more pain than pleasure.

After he pulls out he taps at Mike’s shoulder and moves out of the way so he can turn over and if Harvey wasn’t out of breath before, the sight of him right now would have done the trick. This is the third time he’s seen Mike naked in the past 24 hours but in the twilight of dawn, flushed, hard, and spread out in Harvey’s bed for the taking, he’s quite the vision.

He smiles at Harvey like he knows it and licks his lips, trailing the fingers of his right hand down his chest and stomach to wrap his hand around his cock. Looking at Harvey with hooded eyes, he gives himself a single stroke and moans deeply. Harvey’s dick aches in sympathy.

“You like to be watched.”

Mike strokes himself again, lean muscles of his legs flexing with the pleasure. "I like it when you watch.”

Harvey’s stomach does a little dip which he steadfastly ignores; maneuvering between Mike’s spread legs and running his fingers lightly up the insides of his thighs. Mike spreads his legs further in silent invitation and Harvey keeps going, stroking gently over his hole and then pressing two fingers inside when Mike thrusts his hips off the bed and moans.

He’s mesmerized by the sight of Mike as he starts jerking his cock with the rhythm of Harvey’s fingers, watching Harvey watch him, his eyes heavy-lidded and lips parted as he lets out breathy little sounds of pleasure. Harvey finds Mike’s prostate, pressing firm strokes into the smooth bundle of nerves, and Mike’s movements start to lose their rhythm, becoming erratic as his orgasm approaches.

Harvey finds he’s not content just to watch, and he bends down, sucking Mike’s cock into his mouth and bobbing his head in time with the thrust of his fingers. Mike groans and throws his head back against the pillow, burying his hands in Harvey’s hair. Harvey brings his other hand up to wrap around the base of Mike’s cock and he feels the first spasm in his palm.

“Fuucck,” Mike moans, as he shoots into Harvey’s mouth, and Harvey can’t help moaning in response as he swallows Mike’s come, hot and bitter, and sucks him through it; releasing him only when little shudders rack his body with every stroke of Harvey’s tongue against the underside of the over sensitive head. Mike lets out a helpless sigh as Harvey removes his fingers from his ass.

Harvey feels high; his entire body overcome with a sensation of dozy relaxation. He crawls up toward the pillows and collapses on his back next to Mike, whose breathing is slowly returning to normal. Harvey turns his head toward him. “You need to eat more fruit.”

“What, not sweet enough for you?” Mike replies with a smirk. “I’ll have to remember that.”

Something about the way he says it makes Harvey picture this scene in his bed. His real bed. In his apartment. In New York. Which is sufficiently alarming to make him change the subject altogether.

“Did I tell you this place has a spa?"

"I know. I saw it when you went to get ‘sunscreen’." Complete with air quotes.

“Oh, so you were snooping,” Harvey says, giving Mike a few retaliatory pokes in the ribs.

"One man's snooping is another man's due diligence," Mike says, squirming away to escape the attack. He gets out of bed and disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes and when he gets back in he reaches down to pull the comforter back over them, turning over onto his stomach and bunching the pillow under his head. Under the warm comforter Harvey’s eyelids are starting to feel heavy, but as a matter of principle he says, “You’re going back to sleep?”

“I don’t believe in getting up before 10 am on a Sunday.” Mike yawns loudly and Harvey can’t help it, he gives a jaw-cracking yawn in response. Mike smiles and snuggles up to Harvey’s side, radiating heat. “See, you’re still tired too.”

He tries to explain that his yawn was just a reflex, but it comes out as a sleepy grumble and Mike looks like he's already half asleep anyway.

Harvey closes his eyes and dozes off.

```

The next time he opens them the room is bright with the light of mid-morning and he feels so relaxed it’s almost surreal. He lays there for a while, but his arm, lodged as it is under Mike’s torso, is falling asleep. When he tries to extricate it Mike wakes up and as soon as he sees Harvey a wide, sleepy grin spreads across his face. “Morning,” he says through a full body stretch. He props his head up against his hand with his arm bent at the elbow, and examines Harvey with a pleased expression. “You look rested.”

Harvey _feels_ rested. He feels amazing actually but he just nods and glances at the wall clock. It reads 11:17. “Guess that’s what happens when you sleep away half the day.”

Mike gives him a knowing smile. “You’re welcome.”

“What do you want for breakfast, Mother Theresa?”

“Surprise me.”

Harvey calls down to Antonio and they have breakfast in bed, huevos rancheros, which Harvey confesses to Mike has been his favorite breakfast food since a trip he took to San Diego with his roommates his sophomore year of college. They were out late and stopped at a hole in the wall restaurant on the outskirts of the Gas Lamp district for sustenance before they headed back to their hotel. The kitchen had been closed, but Harvey had flirted with the bartender and got her to have the cooks make them one last meal. Huevos rancheros weren’t even on the menu. He’s been hooked ever since.

Mike smiles like he’s delighted to know this detail about Harvey. “What were you like in college?”

“I don’t know,” Harvey says with a shrug. “Young, ambitious, immature.”

“I bet you were gorgeous.”

“Well, some things never change.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “When did you first sleep with a guy? Was it one of your professors? I bet it was one of your professors.”

“No,” Harvey says with a chuckle. “Although there was a TA -”

“Naturally.”

“-but he wasn’t my first.”

Mike looks at him expectantly and he looks so gleeful that Harvey only makes him wait until he finishes his orange juice before starting in on the story of Peter. There are only two people in this world to whom Harvey has told this story: Donna, because they used to get really drunk and trade secrets back when they worked at the DA’s office and Jessica, who he told one night after they won a big case during a celebration that involved copious amounts of expensive alcohol and cocaine. The mere fact that Harvey is about to extend the circle of trust to Mike when he’s not even under the influence, should be enough to give him pause, but he feels somehow compelled to share.

The year that Harvey turned 16, he and Marcus spent the summer living in New York City with their father. His parents' marriage was becoming increasingly distant and Harvey always thought that in spite of the act his father put on, deep down he knew what his wife was doing. Almost as if to escape the growing tension in the house, he agreed to sublet an apartment from one of his musician buddies who was traveling in Europe for the summer and, after school was out, he took Harvey and Marcus with him. It was a barebones place in the Village near NYU, perfect for a single musician but a tight squeeze for a family of three. Marcus was only 11 so he spent most of the vacation tagging along with their father, still young enough that the waitresses at the various gigs Gordon Specter played cooed over him and gave him Shirley Temples on the house. Harvey on the other hand was coming into his own, brimming with testosterone, and craving a sort of independence he couldn't have in the small working class town of West Haven, CT. 

His dad seemed to understand this implicitly and allowed Harvey the freedom to spend his days on his own, leaving him every morning with a little money for meals out, and instructions to be home by 11 pm. A curfew Harvey dutifully adhered to all summer. 

He spent the first few weeks taking the subway out to Brighton Beach listening to _He’s the DJ, I’m the Rapper_ on his Walkman, pretending he was 19, and talking to older Russian girls whose English was questionable at best. He even managed to make out with a couple of the hot ones.

And then Peter moved into his apartment building.

Harvey still remembers vividly the first time they met. It was a simple exchange. Harvey was coming back for the night, it was around 10:50 and he was carrying a box of pizza from the restaurant around the corner. There was a man sitting on the building's stoop smoking a cigarette and when he looked up as Harvey approached, he seemed to be lounging there as though the sole purpose of the nearby street lamp was to light his features. 

As Harvey got close enough, the man's gaze fixed on him. He smiled in something like recognition and Harvey was suddenly and inexplicably short of breath. He'd run into this guy a couple of times, seen him moving in earlier this week. There was no denying his attractiveness; he had dirty blond hair, eyes like a reflecting pool, and dimples for days. But it was probably the way the shadows played across his face as he smiled at Harvey, holding the promise of dangers untold, that really got Harvey’s blood pumping that night.

"That pizza any good?" He had a British accent, which only made him hotter.

"It's not bad." Harvey slowed to a stop. "Want a slice?" he offered with as much nonchalance as he could muster. "I won't be able to finish this all myself anyway." 

"I doubt that's true. What are you about 17?" the man asked with a chuckle.

Harvey just nodded. He wasn't about to tell this guy he was actually younger. 

“It’s kind of you to offer though.” He took a long pull of his cigarette and the way he was looking at Harvey - it wasn't inappropriate exactly - just like he was really _seeing_ him, not as a kid or even a teenager but as a person. No adult had ever looked at Harvey like that before and he found it intoxicating

He exhaled the smoke and Harvey involuntarily scrunched up his nose at the smell. The man smiled, like he thought that was cute, and stubbed out the cigarette on the stair just above where he was sitting, extending his hand in greeting.

“Peter Taylor, flat 5103.”

Harvey took his hand. “Harvey Specter, 2517.”

Peter leaned in, gave him that look again and said, “You’re welcome by any time, Harvey.”

And that was it. Peter let go of Harvey’s hand and Harvey mumbled some combination of “thanks” and “good night”. He stepped past him up the stoop and into the building feeling flustered and turned on. His dad and brother were out at a gig and when he got upstairs he pulled his pants down and jerked off standing against the closed door to the apartment, images of Peter’s smile floating past his closed eyelids.

“Jesus Christ, Harvey this is so hot,” Mike breaks in, his cheeks are flushed and he’s watching Harvey with rapt attention. “How old was Peter?”

“32,” Harvey says, and Mike’s sharp intake of breath makes him smile.

“You’d never been with a guy before?”

“Not in the flesh.” He reaches over and pinches one of Mike’s nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Mike moans and his eyes flutter shut. “But I’d thought about it. I knew I was into guys too pretty much since I started watching porn. I guess the opportunity just never presented itself until that summer.”

Mike swallows. “So how did it start?”

Harvey places the tray with their dishes on the floor next to the bed and pulls Mike down with him so they can lay with Harvey’s front pressed to Mike’s side. “I started hanging around his place like a lovesick kid,” Harvey says, running his fingers lightly over Mike’s throat. “I thought I was being slick, but he knew. He was cool about it though. He was an actor and sometimes he’d go to auditions, but he didn’t really seem like he needed the money. I think his family was rich and he just came to the city to get away from them. He’d go hang out with friends around the city at night and sleep the mornings away. I started showing up in the afternoons, just as he was waking up. If I timed it just right he’d open the door in just his boxers.” Harvey chuckles at the memory. “We talked about everything: music, school, girls, boys, sex.”

Mike shudders at that last one and Harvey traces a line down his breast bone and strokes each nipple in a circular motion, watching them pebble beneath his touch.

Sex was pretty much all Harvey had wanted to talk about at that age. He’d slept with a girl for the first time after the Homecoming dance the previous fall. Becca Lewis. It had been hot, quick, and terrifying in the back of his father’s 1983 Honda Accord and Harvey had concluded almost immediately that he wanted more. 

Peter, it turned out, slept mostly with guys and while he was happy to discuss heterosexual sex with Harvey his real area of expertise was sex with men, a subject on which Harvey was desperate for information. He didn’t have anyone he could talk to about his interest in men. It was 1988 and HIV - or as it was called then “gay cancer” - had small towns like West Haven in a homophobic panic. The internet wasn’t anything to speak of yet so everything Harvey knew about sex between two men was gleaned from the poorly informed locker room talk of teenaged boys. Peter was a veritable treasure trove of information complete with anecdotal references and Harvey’s not sure if it was his European upbringing or just his nature but he seemed at ease about sex in a way the other adults in Harvey’s life weren’t. Peter’s judgment-free approach gave Harvey the confidence to ask questions like “what’s the best lube for anal sex?” and “whether being on the top or the bottom was better”. Peter supplied the answers without batting an eye and told Harvey on more than one occasion that it was better he know these things in advance so he didn’t make the stupid mistakes that Peter himself had made in discovering them.

And so their afternoons took on a rhythm: Harvey would come over and they’d shoot the shit for a few hours, order food, and slip into a conversation on sex. Peter told him stories so explicit and personal that Harvey’s certain his parents would have been appalled had they known, even about those alone. At 16, he was at the tender age where he was wired to rebel. Frustrated over the sham he’d recently discovered his mother’s marriage vows to be, knowing she would disapprove of his afternoons with Peter brought him a sort of pleasure that only served to make Peter more appealing.

It wasn’t exactly a secret that Harvey was attracted to Peter. When they first started hanging out, Harvey could feel himself blush at the most inopportune times, becoming easily tongue tied, and tripping over his own feet in the apartment. Peter would smile and tease him gently in a way that did nothing to alleviate the butterflies in Harvey’s stomach. He found himself aroused by the way erotic phrases seemed to roll off Peter’s tongue in that sexy accent, and he would sit through their conversations hoping his erection wasn’t obvious.

“Fuck, Harvey,” Mike moans, thrusting his hips into the air, and Harvey can see that his cock is hard again, tenting the sheets. “Did you think about him when you jerked off?”

“How could I not?” he replies, enjoying the sound of almost pained pleasure Mike makes when he draws a line with his index finger up the middle of Mike’s hard on through the linens. “I was sixteen. Here’s this hot British guy telling me about all his sexual escapades in detail? I went home every night after I left his apartment and jerked off fantasizing about what we’d talked about that day.”

“He must have known.”

“Of course he knew. It turned him on, knowing he was winding me up.” Harvey grips Mike’s erection firmly through the fabric and Mike groans deeply. “I decided two can play at that game, so I kept asking questions.”

Harvey watches a wet spot form on the sheets while he strokes Mike’s cock. He hasn’t thought about Peter in a long time. Seeing Mike get so turned on by the story is an unexpected plus.

One day, toward the end of that summer, Harvey decided he was going to ask Peter for a more … skills-based education. He’d figured, why not? He liked and trusted Peter and he could tell the attraction was mutual. He doesn’t remember the exact conversation when he brought it up, but he does recall that Peter didn’t reject him outright, he simply told Harvey to come back in a couple of days because he had to think about it and sent him on his way. 

Mike is thrusting gently into Harvey’s fist. He lets out a breathless chuckle. “You asked this guy to commit statutory rape and all he said was ‘I’ll think about it’?”

“I guess I made a compelling argument,” Harvey says, with a shrug.

It was the longest two days of Harvey’s life. When he knocked on Peter’s door a couple days later, his heart was pounding and his palms were sweating. Peter just opened the door like normal and asked Harvey to come inside. He sat down with him in the makeshift living room and told Harvey he would do it under two conditions. One was that he would have the option to veto any one of Harvey’s requests, and Harvey couldn’t argue. Two was that Harvey had to promise he wouldn’t do anything stupid, like fall in love. He said he assumed he didn’t need to tell Harvey what could happen to him if anyone found out about their arrangement. Harvey agreed in a heartbeat.

Mike thrusts a little harder. “So what did you do?”

“Everything,” Harvey says, bending down to suck on one of Mike’s nipples, which makes him gasp. “He taught me how to give head, how to deep throat without choking, how to finger a guy.” Mike’s dick gets harder and the wet spot spreads. “He taught me about rimming. How to do it and how good it feels to have it done.” 

Mike’s breathing hard now, his face is flushed and he’s looking at Harvey like anything Harvey says could set him off. So Harvey tells him exactly what he knows Mike’s been waiting to hear. “I had to beg him for weeks, but he finally fucked me.”

Mike lets out a helpless moan. “Has anyone else ever fucked you?” His voice is strained and Harvey can tell he’s right on the edge of orgasm.

Harvey shakes his head. “No,” he says, leaning down so he can speak right into Mike’s ear. “Do you want to fuck me?”

Mike’s climax punches out of him and his back bows as it rips through his body. He groans loudly, thrusting into Harvey’s hand as he empties himself into the sheets.

Harvey’s so turned on by watching Mike come at the suggestion of fucking him, that he just lays there watching Mike recover and thrusting his hard on against the side of Mike’s thigh. Harvey hasn’t bottomed in 26 years, but not because he didn’t like it. He just never came across a situation in which he felt compelled to do it again. Suddenly the idea of having Mike inside of him seems appealing in ways Harvey has no desire to analyze at the moment.

When Mike comes out of his post-orgasm stupor he turns to look at Harvey with a sated smile. He reaches down under the covers and takes Harvey’s erection in the palm of his hand. The sensation without any lube is a little sharp, but its intensity only heightens Harvey’s arousal.

He gasps and rolls over onto his back, his pelvis bucking up into Mike’s grip. Mike scoots closer, sucking gently on Harvey’s earlobe and murmuring, “I’d make it so good.” 

Jesus fuck. In this moment Harvey sincerely regrets not having met this side of Mike sooner. He’s confident and cocky in bed in a way that’s not entirely unexpected, but still surprising for the way it makes Harvey feel like he’s coming out of his skin with desire. Mike’s so tuned into him that he knows just what to say to make Harvey feel like the heat in the room has been turned up about a thousand degrees in the space of just a few seconds. Feeling this laid bare and vulnerable should be alarming, but instead Harvey feels a kind of exhilaration he hasn’t felt in years.

Mike maneuvers between his legs spreading them apart with his thighs and trapping Harvey’s cock between their bellies. Harvey moans at the friction and Mike smiles down at him like he’s just unlocked an achievement before coming in for a kiss. It starts out gentle and builds in intensity until the rhythmic thrust of Mike’s tongue against his own is making Harvey feel like he could come just like this; thrusting against Mike’s stomach with what little leverage he can muster.

Just when it’s really starting to get good Mike pulls back and Harvey groans at the loss of contact. Mike chuckles against the skin of Harvey’s throat as he starts nipping and sucking his way down Harvey’s body, leaving little hickeys and bite marks in his wake. 

“How do you like it?” The vibration of Mike’s words against the skin of Harvey’s sternum makes Harvey bunch his hands in the sheets. Mike continues downward, sucking red bruises in a trail down to Harvey’s belly button. “Do you like it slow?” He drags his tongue through the small puddle of precome Harvey’s been steadily leaking from his rock hard cock onto his stomach. He looks up at Harvey with hooded eyes. “Do you like it deep?”

Harvey moans, trying to thrust his hips to get some kind of friction, but Mike has his hands splayed across Harvey’s pelvic bones, limiting his movement. He looks like he’s enjoying Harvey’s predicament immensely, a fact that makes Harvey bite his tongue to avoid doing something crazy, like beg Mike to fuck him. Ceding control to Mike is an experience he finds surprisingly pleasurable, but there are limits.

Mike gives him a wicked little smile and disappears between his legs sucking kisses into his inner thighs before bathing Harvey’s nuts with his tongue. Harvey can't believe he's this fucking close and Mike's not even touching his cock. He's teetering on the edge though and all he can think about is tumbling over.

Mike spreads Harvey's legs wide and bends down, lips brushing lightly against Harvey’s perineum as he says, “26 years", like it’s a dirty little secret and of course he did the math in his head. For some reason that makes Harvey even harder.

"You're probably so fucking tight," Mike says so softly that Harvey can barely hear him and then suddenly Harvey can feel the heat of Mike’s breath against his hole in short puffs.

Harvey goes completely still, all the muscles in his body tensing in anticipation and when he feels the silky soft wetness of Mike's tongue tracing the rim, it's the sweetest release. He comes without a hand on him and it's an electrical storm of pleasure that starts in his groin and builds in intensity until it explodes out to the rest of his body, lighting up all the nerves in its path. The spasms seem to wrack all his muscles and he loses his sense of space and orientation completely as his orgasm rockets through him.

When Harvey comes back to himself he’s still trying to catch his breath as Mike kisses his way back up his body; gentle brushes of the lips, like he's is trying to bring him back down to earth slowly. By the time Mike reaches Harvey’s neck, his breathing has returned to normal. Harvey swallows and Mike traces the movement of his Adam’s apple with his tongue in a way that sends a shiver down Harvey’s spine. Mike pulls back to look at him and his expression is disarmingly open as he smiles and says, “Can I kiss you?”

Fuck it. “You dirty boy,” Harvey murmurs against his lips as he stretches upward and Mike kisses him deeply, snaking his tongue into Harvey's mouth with a groan. They kiss like that, until there's no breath left between them and they break apart panting. 

Mike catches his breath first. "That was unexpected.”

"Tell me about it. I had no idea you had such a jailbait kink."

"I’m full of surprises, " Mike says, with a mischievous grin. “As are you.”

"Touché."

Harvey can’t see the clock but it’s got to be after one. His entire body is in a state of extreme relaxation at the moment, but looking down at the come on his belly he feels like a shower. When he announces as much to Mike, Mike shrugs and says, "Yeah, I’m down with that.” He levers himself off the bed and Harvey watches his ass as he walks toward the bathroom. He hadn’t actually been suggesting they shower together but, now that he thinks about it, the shower is big enough for two and using it together may very well be the least transgressive thing they've done in the past 48 hours.

They spend about an hour in there, testing the limits of the hot water tank, and steaming up the bathroom until it resembles the sauna downstairs. They pass the time talking about everything from the legality of Dell's acquisition of Quest Software to a heated debate over the best actor to ever play James Bond. Here, they have to agree to disagree, because although Mike makes a solid argument for Timothy Dalton, no one will ever convince Harvey that Bond should ever have been played by anyone other than Sean Connery.

By the time they get out of the shower they’re both pink with wrinkled fingers and toes. They’re in excellent spirits and they joke and tease each other mercilessly as they move around the room dressing and packing up.

“Man, I’m starving,” Mike says, as he sits down on the bed watching Harvey throw the last few things in his bag.

“Jesus. You’re like a bottomless pit.

“Grammy used to say I have the metabolism of a thirteen year old.” A pain-filled look flits across Mike’s face, and even though it’s only for a second it makes a ball of something like yearning stick in Harvey’s chest.

He clears his throat. “We can grab a sandwich before we leave, but we’re going to dinner in the city before I drop you off.” Harvey had been planning to take Zoe to a little French restaurant named Papillon to end the weekend, so he’d instructed the car to pick them up at three so they could be back in the city by dinnertime. He doubts Mike will abide French food so he decided he’s going to take him to one of his favorite Italian restaurants, Gino’s.

Mike’s eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline. “You’re taking me to dinner? Classy.”

Harvey tamps down the giddy sensation that arises at Mike’s pleased expression. 

They head downstairs and while Antonio is packing some sandwiches for the road, they hear the car honk as it rolls up in the driveway. Harvey thanks Antonio and leaves instructions to lock up the house and before he knows it, they’re buckled into the backseat of the car and headed back toward the city.

Harvey makes small talk with the driver to avoid the sinking feeling he has as he watches the cabin shrink in the rearview mirror.

```

He wakes up as they’re pulling up in front of the restaurant. He must have fallen asleep sometime shortly after they started driving, because the last thing he remembers is the rush of vibrant yellows and reds of the trees lining the road back to the main highway. Mike is curled up across the entirety of the back seat, his head in Harvey’s lap. 

Harvey stretches, massaging the crick in his neck he got from the way his head was propped awkwardly against the window, and Mike sits up, bleary eyed, an imprint of the weave of Harvey’s jeans pressed in a pink outline into his cheek.

“If you drooled on my pants you’re paying for dry cleaning.”

Mike scoffs, rubbing his eyes. “If you dry clean your jeans you have bigger problems.”

After some light grooming they make their way inside. Gino’s is one of Harvey’s best memories, a remnant of his childhood that he’s carried with him into his adult years. Harvey’s father was close friends with Carmine Montanari, the son of the original owners, Gino and Camilla who’d passed the family legacy down. Harvey can remember many a Saturday night spent at Gino’s, while his father played gigs in the city. Carmine and his wife, Adriana, lived in an apartment above the restaurant, also inherited from Carmine’s parents, and Harvey and Marcus, along with the couple’s two sons, Gino and Angelo, would split their time between the Montanaris' home and the restaurant downstairs. They were thick as thieves, getting into more trouble than Carmine and Adriana knew. Harvey loved it there. The warm, rich smells of classic Italian cooking seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. 

Though the neighborhood around it has been slowly gentrifying over the past couple of decades, the timeless charm of the restaurant itself has proven largely immutable. A simple storefront with large bay windows, fluorescent lighted script spelling out “Gino’s” hangs in them. As Harvey steps inside he can see that the simple square tables that used to hug the edge of the room, have been upgraded to booths, but the same circular tables set for four, with real linen tablecloths, occupy the rest of the dining space. It still has the same tan plaster walls, sparsely adorned with paintings of the southern Italian country side and the old wooden bar stocked with Italian wine glasses, still occupies the left side of the room. The place is busy, lots of families and couples having a Sunday evening dinner.

“Hah-vey!” a voice exclaims, thick with a New York accent. He looks to his right and a smiling Angelo Montanari is coming in for a hug. Angelo is short in stature but substantial in form. He clearly enjoys his own cooking, and has a jolly way about him that’s reminiscent of Santa Claus. If Santa were Italian-American and lived in East Harlem. “It’s been a long time, my friend,” he says, reaching up to grab Harvey’s head and pulling him down so he can lay kisses of greeting on each cheek. “Usually on Sundays, I have dinner with the family, but when you called me to make a reservation I had to be here.” Angelo beams up at him. “The prodigal son returns.”

“I know. It’s been too long. Work’s been crazy.” He turns to Mike who’s been observing Harvey and Angelo’s interaction with palpable interest. For a brief moment Harvey’s tongue feels like it’s been tied into knots as he works out the best way to introduce Mike. He can’t exactly say “this is my associate turned weekend fling” and he’s known Angelo too long to pretend they’re here in any sort of professional capacity. He settles on, “friend” which he figures is both neutral and true enough to satisfy both parties.

Mike and Angelo shake hands and then Mike asks where the bathroom is, giving Angelo and Harvey time to catch up. By the time Mike re-emerges from the restroom Harvey’s seated in a booth in the back corner, perusing the wine menu. Mike slides into the seat opposite him.

“What are you, secretly a member of the mob?” Mike says with a smile, leaning forward over the table slightly. “I was half-expecting to find a gun taped behind the toilet in the bathroom.”

“If you’re part of the mob and you need to keep it a secret, you’re not doing it right.”

Just then the waiter arrives and Harvey orders a bottle of red wine he’s sure Mike would object to if he saw the price tag which, for reasons unknown to Harvey, makes it that much more pleasurable to order without his consent. He and Mike also place their food orders and then Harvey gets up to use the restroom.

“But seriously,” Mike says when he returns. “How do you know Angelo? What’s the story behind this place?”

Harvey experiences a moment of reflexive reluctance to share, but reminds himself that after all the lines he and Mike have crossed together, there’s no reason not to. He tells Mike all about the Montanaris and the time he spent here as a kid and by the time he finishes, Mike is looking at him with such affection that Harvey feels immediately unsettled.

“What?” he says, resisting the urge to squirm uncomfortably in his seat. Where the hell is the food?

“I don’t know,” Mike says with a shrug. “I guess it’s nice to know you haven’t always been Harvey Specter, Closer Extraordinaire.” He smiles and reaches for his glass, taking a sip of wine.

Thankfully the bus boy chooses that instant to arrive with their plates and the moment passes.

They eat in comfortable silence, the light of the day fading to dark outside until the restaurant is bathed in the warm ambiance of candlelight and some skillfully placed lamps. The room is filled with the clink of silverware against plates and the chatter of the other patrons, occasionally interrupted by the scream or laugh of a toddler. Harvey takes his time with his house lasagna, it’s the flavor of his childhood itself, and he savors it, basking in the memories. By the time he takes his last bite, he’s feeling good - great even. He’s full of excellent food and wine and when he looks up he notes that Mike looks delectable in the restaurant lighting, flushed from the alcohol, his lips a deep enticing red. Harvey only realizes he’s staring at Mike’s mouth, when Mike licks his lips and says, “You’re only allowed to look at me like that if you’re prepared to act on it.”

Harvey knows he should stop this before it starts. The weekend is rapidly coming to a close, and they’ve got to take everything that’s happened in the past three days and vent it out the airlock before tomorrow morning. It’d be prudent for them to start now. But they’ve finished almost an entire bottle of wine between them and the heady rush of it is impairing Harvey’s judgment so effectively, he sees no choice but to give in to temptation. He pours the rest of the wine into their glasses, smiles at Mike, and says, “Look at you like what?”

Mike grins like he knows something Harvey doesn’t and knocks back the ¼ glass Harvey just poured him. When he speaks it’s in a low tone that only Harvey can hear. “Like you want to spread me out on this table and fuck me until I scream your name.”

“In front of all these people?” Harvey asks, trying hard to keep his voice level. “Does that turn you on?”

“You turn me on.”

Harvey feels himself go half hard.

They sit there, locked in an intense gaze, for several seconds before their waiter sidles up to the table. 

“Will you two be having dessert tonight?” he asks, apologetically, as if he knows he’s interrupting something.

“Yes,” Harvey says, holding Mike’s gaze for another second before he turns to smile up at the server. “But not here. We’ll take the check, please.”

“Oh, Mr. Montanari said it’s on the house, sir.”

Angelo has always been generous, but Harvey leaves enough to cover the wine and a generous tip.

Both Mike and Harvey use the bathroom before they leave and the way Mike is looking at Harvey in the mirror as they wash their hands side-by-side at the small vanity is making him want to lock the door and take Mike up against it. But the walls in this old building are thin, and Harvey knows that wouldn’t do much for the family atmosphere.

Once they get in the car though, all bets are off. It’s two hours to Brooklyn in Sunday evening traffic and they can’t keep their hands off each other, trading wet, heated kisses until they’re both moaning into each one. Harvey unzips Mike’s jeans and takes his cock in his hand, bringing Mike to the brink of orgasm several times before finally letting him come, warm and slippery into Harvey’s fist. After he recovers, Mike splits his attention between giving Harvey a slow, thorough blow job and leaving hickeys in all the spaces he hasn’t yet marked on Harvey’s chest. Harvey’s mind is adrift in an ocean of pleasure when Mike licks his way up to Harvey’s ear, sucks gently on the lobe and says, “How mad do you think Jessica would actually be?”

Mike is still stroking Harvey’s painfully hard erection, so it takes his brain a second to come back online. He asks Mike to repeat the question. When he hears it the second time he circles Mike’s wrist in his fingers to stop the motion and pulls back a little, an immediate sensation of unease settling in his gut. “What do you mean? If she found out about this?”

“Yeah, like on a scale of one to ten.”

“Twenty,” Harvey says without hesitation.

Mike chuckles and moves to kiss Harvey’s neck, but Harvey moves back out of his reach. Mike’s frame stiffens a little, but he asks in a muted tone, voice pitched to soothe, “She’d get over it, though, right? I mean, it’s us.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t think she would,” Harvey says, some of the panic he’s feeling unintentionally seeping into his voice. He disentangles himself from Mike completely, moving to the far side of the car so he can look Mike in the face. They’ve just passed the Brooklyn Bridge and are weaving their way through the lighted city streets to Williamsburg. ”What are you saying, Mike?”

“I’m saying I’m a big boy and I know how to keep a secret. You can’t tell me this weekend wasn’t awesome. Maybe it doesn’t have to end. Maybe Jessica doesn’t-”

Harvey puts his hand up to stop him. “It’s not just Jessica. There’s no world in which we can continue this _and_ continue our professional relationship. This weekend was …” he trails off, because all the words that come to mind only make his heart pound harder than it already is. “I had a great time too, but let’s leave it at that.”

In the bright light of a passing street lamp Harvey can see Mike’s expression shutter, but he sounds hurt when he says. “And you don’t even want to _try_ to do both?”

Damnit. Harvey knew this was a bad idea. He steels himself, “Mike, we talked about this. You told me you understood that after this weekend things have to go back to normal. You told me you could handle it.” Mike looks down; wringing his hands, and doesn’t reply. “Can you?”

Harvey’s entire digestive system lodges itself in his throat as he waits for Mike to respond. 

After several seconds, Mike huffs out a humorless laugh and says, “Sure Harvey. Of course.”

A kind of relief spreads through Harvey’s body, but a tightness remains in his chest. The atmosphere in the backseat has cooled considerably and Harvey tucks away his, now flaccid, cock and buttons his shirt back up. It’s only about two more minutes to Mike’s apartment, but the icy silence makes it feel like an eternity. 

When the car rolls to a stop outside Mike’s building, Harvey turns to him, intending to say what, he’s not sure, but Mike just says, “See you tomorrow, Harvey,” and slides out of his door onto the street side, closing it behind him. Harvey hears the trunk pop, and then slam closed again and watches Mike walk up to the door of the building and insert his key. Just as Mike pulls it open an overwhelming urge makes Harvey lower the car window and call out, “Mike!”

The street noise makes it possible that Mike didn’t hear him and even if he did, Harvey half expects him to pretend he didn’t and disappear inside without looking back. When Mike turns around, a blank expression on his face, Harvey finds he’s speechless. 

Mike gives a rueful smile. “Don’t worry,” he calls, over the bustling sounds of the city streets. “Back to normal.”

He goes inside, the door closing solidly behind him.

```

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:** Contains references to sex with an older man when one of our boys was a minor. The sex was "consensual" but that's kind of the point of the warning, right?
> 
> ***The description of the night Harvey told Jessica about Peter is a reference to [A Night to Forget](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512599) by [mskatej](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mskatej/pseuds/mskatej). You can thank me later. ;-)


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